Start To End?
by JenBurch
Summary: John has to hunt a nasty creature during a snow storm, but Sammy and Dean are waiting in the car... or are they? What could be worse... other than what happens AFTER the hunt! WeeChester fic!
1. Chapter 1

HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!

Disclaimer: They're not much, nothing changed over night and I still don't get paid to do this.

Dedicated: To SammyGirl1963! This is the WeeChester fic you wanted, I hope you like it! Way to challenge a girl when she's never written a WeeChester fic before, I hope I'm up to it! LoL Well, lets see what happens, huh? Consider this New Years pressie :)

A/N – Yes, this is the first WeeChester I've ever written. I've written flashbacks, and my last story had Little Sammy in it, but this is gonna be a little different for me just the same. I hope you like it! I guess this is a time for firsts, I only just posted my first one-shot yesterday, so lets see if I can manage it again, shall we?

**Chapter One**

**MIA**

Nine year old Dean Winchester and his little brother, five year old Sammy, were sitting in the back seat of the Impala with blankets wrapped around them. Their father, John, had left them at least an hour ago Dean figured… but since he was only nine, he wasn't entirely sure how much time had passed. All he knew was that he was tired, cold, hungry, and really sick of reading Little Red Riding Hood to Sammy.

Sammy had started reading it to himself a short time ago. Now, though, he had started reading it out loud to Dean, putting on voices for all the different characters to entertain them both. But Dean didn't want to be entertained by the Big Bad Wolf, he was almost ten! He was getting too old for this stuff, after all. Besides, John was out there hunting a real creature that was deadly and a damned good hunter itself, so Dean was busy looking out the window to try and catch a glimpse of his father in case he needed him.

John had left Dean armed with a shotgun and a flare gun. Dean wasn't too sure what the flare gun was for, but John had told him to aim for a body shot and he'd be okay. Dean glanced at the flare gun, preferring to hold he shotty since it was more familiar and he wasn't sure about what a flare gun was for. He had seen flares in the movies and always thought they looked kind of like fireworks, so he wondered why his father would tell him to use it if this creature came after him and Sammy. Scary guns hurt evil creatures, not pretty lights.

Dean huffed and shrank lower in his seat as Sammy finished the book, flipped back to the beginning and started all over again. He had a head ache and his eyes were hurting him too. They were here because Dean was sick and the motel room got freezing cold, so John didn't want to leave them alone. That and something about security. He had stood at the front door yelling at the door handle for ten minutes as he fiddled with something there and muttered under his breath.

Dean didn't care, he just wished his cold would get better. Then maybe his dad would realise that, since he was almost ten already, he was old enough to help him hunt too! He didn't have to sit in a locked car with his little brother reading the same stupid story over and over again.

Normally Dean didn't mind watching out for his brother. It was a big responsibility and Dean was the only one who really knew how, but right now Dean felt like complaining about everything. His whole body hurt, his head ached, his nose dripped and he was fairly certain he had a fever. This was no place to be when a little boy was sick, Dean moped to himself.

Sammy tossed the book aside and inched his way across the seat until he was snuggled into Dean's shoulder. Dean sighed and shifted the blanket so that Sammy could get more comfortable, and once he was settled again, he tucked the blanket around the smaller boy and put his arm around him to keep him warm.

"When's Dad coming back?" Sammy asked, sounding small.

"I don't know," Dean admitted, sniffing. "I shouldn't be too much longer."

Sammy yawned and closed his eyes. Dean was relieved when he heard Sammy's breathing even out and he knew he was finally asleep. That was something at least – no more Little Red Riding Hood, and Sammy wouldn't be too cranky in the morning. It wasn't much, but Dean would take whatever he could get right now. He turned to look out the window again, wishing he could go to sleep like his brother, but he knew he couldn't. His dad might need him, and that meant staying on high alert.

Besides, if this creature was as clever as Dad said, Dean thought. I'd better stay awake just in case!

Still, a short time later, Dean's eyes were drooping shut and the fevered boy couldn't stop his head from falling forward and resting atop his little brother's as darkness over came his vision and sleep took hold of him.

SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

John Winchester made his way through the dark woods, wishing he could just find the damned Wendigo so he could kill it and get back to his boys. He hated having to bring them with him on this hunt, even if they were locked in the car, but he couldn't do anything else. They were too far from Pastor Jim's for him to drop them off, and he didn't like the idea of leaving a sick Dean in charge in a motel room that wouldn't lock.

Stopping dead in his tracks when he heard a twig snap, John whirled around with his flare gun and looked through the woods behind him. He was certain the sound had come from behind him, but there was nothing there. Just more darkness. Not one for giving into nerves, John couldn't shake the eerie feeling that there was something wrong… something bad was coming his way, and he worried that it somehow involved his boys.

He knew he wasn't the worlds greatest father, but everything John did was for his boys. Even this obsession he had carried around with him ever since Mary died, the vengence he clung to so ferociously he held onto because of the boys. He wanted to avenge Mary's death for Mary, for himself, but mostly for the boys. They deserved to know that the thing that killed their mother was gone from the world and that it would never harm their family again… especially little Sammy. John always grew angry when he remembered that Sammy didn't know his mother, had never had a chance to know her because this… thing… had killed her and destroyed their happy family. They had a big beautiful home, a roast dinner on Sundays, and had even been talking about getting a golden retriever for Dean's next birthday until Mary had died and suddenly everything they had and everything they were supposed to have had been ripped out of their hands and lost forever.

Now they didn't even have a home.

Somehow Mary managed to invade his thoughts on every hunt, and John always found himself running purely on anger and revenge until the night was over and the creature was dead – and then he usually went home exhausted and collapsed in his chair where Dean would sit on the edge of the chair, stroke his face and tell him everything would be okay.

It had been a long time since Dean had done that, though, and it wasn't a habit that Sammy had picked up on, so instead John would go home, the boys would be asleep and John would just collapse in his chair feeling an overwhelming sadness that usually resulted in tears streaming down his face until he fell asleep in that very spot.

Every evil creature he killed started out to be the very embodiment of the thing that had killed Mary and for a minute or two he would feel great satisfaction at a job well done. Soon, however, it dawned on him that it wasn't the creature that had taken his wife and their dreams for their children away, and he would feel empty and alone all over again.

And there was no choice but to pick up and keep going because back in that car, hopefully asleep by now, were two little boys that had no one left in the world but their father to rely on. Falling apart wasn't an option for John Winchester…

…but some days he wasn't sure how he had ever managed to keep it together except the thought that Mary would have wanted him to be strong and protect those boys.

Think of Sammy, that tiny baby he had grabbed from his crib moments before it had burst into flames, always made John sad and he wondered if he or Dean would ever get a normal life.

That's what John had always wanted for them, and that was the one thing he could never give them…

Another twig snapped, on the other side of John this time and he whirled around, flare gun aimed and ready. Still, there was nothing to be seen and he was growing frustrated. He'd never known a Wendigo to play with its food so much before, normally when someone was alone it would just strike and kill… or drag them away to it's lair to feed on later. This was not normal Wendigo behaviour.

The creature would instil terror into it's victims, but they weren't known for they're subtlety. Was it possible that this wasn't a Wendigo? Could all the research be wrong? He didn't think that was possible, he had never walked into a hunt so certain of what he was hunting before. And yet there was something wrong with this picture, something he just couldn't put his finger on…

He saw a flash of something through the trees, running in the opposite direction as if it were afraid of him. John followed at a rapid pace, knowing that if it reached it's lair he might not be able to track it unless it wanted him too – which was a very, very bad idea.

When the ground gave out beneath him, however, the Wendigo was the furthest thing from John's mind as he fell. Thoughts of his boys flashed through his mind and fear at the thought that, this time, Daddy might not make it home…

SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

"DEAN!"

Dean shifted in his seat, his head foggy from sleep and his eyes still too heavy to open. He kept them shut and listened carefully for a moment, but he heard nothing. He snuggled further down under the blankets, pulling Sammy closer to him to make sure he was warm and safe, and tried to tune out the rest of the world.

"DEAN!!!"

The voice was louder this time, closer, and Dean immediately recognised it. He sat up, shifting Sammy to the other side of the seat so he wouldn't wake him, and turned to look out the window. His father was out there somewhere, and he sounded worried, but Dean couldn't see him anywhere.

Maybe he was further into the woods where I can't see him, Dean thought, straining his eyes to see. It had started to snow, and Dean remembered his father saying something about why he had to hunt this thing tonight before it habitats again.

Habitats? Dean scrunched up his face, his fever confusing him. He knew that wasn't the right word, but he couldn't figure out what it was supposed to be. Deciding it wasn't important right now, Dean turned his attention back to the woods.

His father had told him to stay in the car, not to leave under any circumstances… but if he was hurt, Dean wanted to help him.

"DEAN! HELP!"

Okay, there was something desperate about his father's voice that time, and it had Dean's heart racing. He couldn't stop himself, he immediately grabbed the shotgun, tucked the flare gun into the waistband of his pants the way he had also seen John do it, and unlocked the door. He glanced behind him, wondering what he should do with Sammy. Should he leave him here? Lock him in the car to keep him safe? That didn't seem like a good idea if there was a hungry creature out there, Sammy might look like a midnight snack. It was cold and windy and snowy outside, and it didn't seem like a great idea to drag a five year old through that either, but at least they'd be together.

John had always told them to stay together, so Dean reached over and shook his brother awake as gently as he could so he didn't scare him.

"Sammy?" Dean called softly. Sammy's eyes opened slowly. The poor kid looked so tired that it broke Dean's heart to have to wake him up, but he knew he couldn't just leave. If Sammy woke up to find he was completely alone, he would panic and probably leave the car on his own… that would be really bad. "Sammy, come on, wake up."

Sammy sat up and stretched his arms over his head tiredly.

"Is Dad back?" Sammy asked, blinking wide eyes and glancing around the room.

Dean shook his head.

"No," he answered. "But I can hear him calling so he's okay. But he needs our help… can you come with me?"

Sammy pressed his lips together and nodded bravely, scrambling out of the car behind Dean quickly, grabbing his book on the way out. Dean sighed and closed the car door, leaving it unlocked in case they needed to get inside quickly. Somehow it just seemed like the right thing to do, he decided, not bothering to think about it for another second. He couldn't waste all his time questioning everything he was doing when his father was out there waiting for him.

"Which way?" Sammy asked, clutching his book tightly to his chest. He had already started shivering, and Dean wished he had grabbed the blankets but until he was sure his father was hurt he wasn't going to waste time wrestling with them in this wind. Every second counted in a hunt, he knew that because his father was always saying it.

'Dean, always remember… every second counts in a hunt, you can't waste time second-guessing yourself at every turn or someone might get killed…' John's voice echoed in Dean's head. If he hadn't known better he would have sworn John was standing right in front of him. 'And always remember, you're number one job is to look after Sammy…'

Dean gulped, wondering if what he was doing would count as breaking the rules, but he dismissed the thought because he was obeying his father's orders right now. John had called out to him for help, and Dean was helping but he couldn't leave Sammy on his own, so it stood to reason that Sammy had to come too. Besides, he may only be five, but he might still be able to help. Dean remembered being a big help to his Dad at Sammy's age!

"This way," Dean pointed, taking Sammy's hand in his and holding the shotgun in his other. It was a little too heavy for him to shoot it with one hand yet, but he could carry it with one hand for a little while, and he needed to make sure Sammy didn't fall in the snow. Walking through the cold was bad enough, but if he were to fall and get then things could be a lot worse. "Dad's voice was coming from in there."

Sammy's lips were still pressed together, and Dean wondered if he was trying to be brave or if he was trying to stop his teeth from chattering. Either way, Sammy wasn't complaining and John hadn't sounded far away so it shouldn't be long before they're all safely in the car and on their way back to the motel.

Dean didn't know how wrong he could be, but it wasn't long before he figured it out…

SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

John pried his eyes open and tried to move, but something was stopping him. Pain in his head, neck and shoulders screamed at him to sit still and he felt obligated to follow their orders. He lay still for a while longer before trying to get up again, but the pain slowed him down considerably and it took his a minute or two to get to his feet properly.

"Damn," John muttered, almost dropping to his knees again as the trees around him began to sway in front of him. The ground almost fell out from under him again, and although John could swear it was moving too, he knew logically it was more likely that he had hit his head and was already beginning to see signs of a concussion.

Swallowing hard to make sure he kept down what little dinner he had eaten earlier, John glanced around him slowly, trying to figure out where he was. He had to figure out a way back to the car, and unfortunately call this hunt an utter failure because he had no way of knowing how long he had been unconscious for and he had to get back to his boys. Sometimes there really were more important things than the hunt, and right now it was Dean asleep and sick in the car with the responsibility of watching Sammy too.

"Besides," John muttered to himself, trying to keep hold of his senses enough to start walking. "It's not like people come out here anyway, and the stupid things going to hibernate soon… it'll be there in twenty years, the boys are waiting for me now."

John turned around, inspecting the woods behind him, trying to figure out where he had come from. There was a steep incline, nothing he couldn't manage but he was certain he had fallen down it in the dark and now he was going to have to find his way back up there with a concussion! Taking a deep breath – and immediately wishing he hadn't when his stomach began churning and his head started swimming – he took a careful step up the incline, trying to pick out the safest path he could.

He knew, looking at the rocks around him, that he could have suffered injuries much worse than a concussion. That alone was making the trip harder, and his neck and shoulders were aching and stiff, so he wondered what damage he was going to have to contend with there, too. As far as he could tell, he had jarred them, which meant they would loosen up on their own, but then again he might have to think about seeing a doctor about it instead of gritting his teeth and convincing the boys he would be fine when he wasn't sure he, himself, was convinced.

Some injuries you just can't mess with.

John grabbed the trunk of a nearby tree about a quarter of the way up the hill and rested a moment, gasping for breath. He felt old and unfit, briefly wondering how wrong he had been about his capabilities. Maybe he was just getting too old for the hunt, he thought. Shaking his head to push the thought aside as he hated to consider the possibility of not hunting again. The very thought of letting the thing that killed Mary and ruined their lives get away with it made him feel physically ill, and there was no way he could deal with that. The minute he shook his head, however, a wave of nausea overcame him and he fell to his knees, heaving what little food was in his stomach behind a bush.

Stomach muscles contracted painfully and he would have sworn his head was going to explode from the pain and the force or it, but he managed to keep everything attached to his shoulders…

…until the darkness overcame his vision once again and he toppled the rest of the way to the ground and lay panting, fighting the losing battle to maintain consciousness.

SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

Sammy plodded along beside his big brother, trying to pretend he wasn't feel the cold and that he wasn't scared. Dean didn't seem to be scared, he never seemed to be scared, and Sammy wanted to be just like Dean. He wanted to grow up to be big and brave like his brother and his father, and one day he wanted to be able to show them he could be a grown up too. He had often wondered what he'd be when he grew up, but he had no answers. It made him sad that he didn't know, because Dean knew. Dean had always wanted to be a hunter like his dad, but Sammy just didn't know what he wanted to do. There were hundreds of options, right? Sammy decided he didn't have to know right now, he had at least four years before he was a big boy like Dean, and then maybe he would be able to figure it out.

Dean stumbled in the snow that was quickly covering the ground, becoming a thick blanket that was cold beneath their sneakered feet. Sammy wished he had a pair of those big boots he saw his Dad wearing all the time, figuring that would at least be warmer even though they didn't look as comfortable as sneakers. He felt his feet getting wet and knew his Dad wouldn't approve.

Sammy really hoped that John would be proud of them for hurrying to help him and not mad at them for leaving the car when they weren't wearing a really big pair of boots. But Dean said he had called them for help, so they had to go! The one thing Sammy always remember John telling them was that they had to follow his orders. Sometimes Sammy didn't like it because he wanted to be with his Dad and he was always being told to stay behind, but John had carefully explained that he gave those orders to keep he and Dean safe and they couldn't disobey or they might get hurt.

Sammy had puzzled over that for a long time, and at first he had accepted what his father was saying but now he was just confused. They had been allowed to come on this hunt, after all. Why were they allowed to sit in the car this time, and not any other time?

"Dean," Sammy panted, white puffs of steam rushing out of his mouth as he trudged along on his little legs after his big brother. "How far away is Dad?"

"I don't know, Sammy," Dean told him. "He didn't sound far, but he might need help getting back to the car."

"How are we gonna do that?" Sammy asked. His eyes grew wide and his tone betrayed how worried he was about finding their dad. "What if he can't walk."

"Then we make sure he's warm and we call for help."

"Who do we call?"

"Pastor Jim…"

"But he's ages away!"

Dean sighed but didn't slow his pace…

…until…

SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

Dean held his hand to Sammy's chest gently, stopping him in his tracks. He heard the distinct sound of a twig snap behind them, and he whirled around, keeping Sammy behind him and the shotgun trained ahead. He saw nothing threatening around them expect the typical darkness of the trees, but he knew there had been a dangerous creature in these wood because John wouldn't be hunting through the woods otherwise. And it had to be bad because he wouldn't have left his boys locked and armed in the car, he would have taken them to Pastor Jim's.

Right about now, Dean was starting to wish that had been an option after all, but he knew that the hunt was on a time schedule for some reason and John hadn't had time to take them to the safety of the Pastor's house.

Then a scary thought occurred to him… what if the creature had gotten away from John and he was hurt? What if they weren't just helping him get back to the car, what if it was a rescue mission?

Dean suddenly felt like he should have a lot more than a shotgun in his hands, and someone older than five to back him up. He'd been wanting to go on a hunt with his father for a long time, and now he was he realised his father had been right when he'd said he wasn't ready. Dean had never felt anything like the fear that was pounding in his chest before, and he hated that he had brought Sammy with him.

Maybe he should have left him in the car?

"Sammy, stay where you are," Dean muttered to his brother when he felt him shifting behind him. The last thing he needed was a missing Sammy when there was some weird creature stalking them – if that was what was going on. But why would Dad risk calling us out here if that creature wasn't dead, Dean wondered. He knew the answer, and it chilled him to the bone…

Dad wouldn't have called if the creature had been dead… and Dean wasn't sure anymore that he would have called even if the creature was dead and buried and covered over with ten tonnes of cement! Dean mentally kicked himself for being so naive and rushing out of the car to go after his father when he should have known that he would never put his boys in that danger.

Dean could still his John's voice in his head the night before…

_"I know you want to help, Dean, but you're just too young to hunt yet…"_

"_But, Dad, I can shoot! You know I can shoot!"_

"_I know you can, but being able to shoot tin cans is a bit different to being able to shoot a living, breathing creature when you're cold and scared… trust me, you'll get to hunt soon enough, but in the meantime you're doing a great job taking care of Sammy and that's what I really need you to do right now!"_

"_But Sammy can go to Pastor Jims!"_

"_No, he can't, I told you I don't have time to take him there before this thing goes underground again… I need my number one soldier to take care of Sammy until it's safe."_

Dean had pouted, but he had finally accepted his father's wishes and agreed to stay and watch Sammy until John had returned from the hunt… that had changed when John had announced they were going to have to wait in the car, and now Dean understood why John had told him he shouldn't be in a hurry to join the hunt…

…and he never would be again.

Dean heard something rushing toward them through the woods and he immediately backed up, trying to keep himself between Sammy and whatever it was that was coming after them.

"Sammy," he began, trying to keep the fear out of his voice. "RUN!"

SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

John pried his eyes open again and groaned as pain throbbed behind his eyes. The concussion was worse than he thought, he realised, but he knew it wasn't bad enough to be effecting his memory as thoughts of his young boys flooded his mind instantly. He pulled himself to his feet in spite of the world that was tipping around him, and dragged himself the rest of the way up the hill by grabbing onto trees and bushes…

…he couldn't trust his legs to get them there on their own, and he didn't have time to waste waiting for them to catch up with the ground that kept shifting under them.

At the top of the hill, John could see the path ahead clearly and was relieved to see that he wasn't far from where he had left the Impala. Whatever he had been chasing had led him closer to the clearing where his boys waited for him than he had realised…

He trotted… well, he stumbled… across the ground, falling every few steps as he rushed to get to his boys. He realised he didn't have his weapons anymore, and briefly wondered where they were – but he decided very quickly that it didn't matter, as long as he could get to Sammy and Dean and get them the hell away from these woods.

He should have brough back up on this hunt, he thought, as he reached the clearing. He stumbled toward the Impala as it sat quietly waiting for him, but when he reached it the bottom fell out of his stomach once again as he realised it was completely empty.

"Dean?" he called, pulling open the unlocked back door. "What the…?"

John knew two things for certain. One, he had locked this door and there was no way it had been unlocked by anyone other than Dean… and two, there was no way Dean would have disobeyed his direct orders and left the car.

Especially not with his little brother in tow.

"DEAN!" John called, hearing his voice echoing through the woods around him. "Shit…"

SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

Dean was pushing Sammy further ahead down the track, trying to find somewhere safe for them to hide. He didn't know enough about this hunt or the creature to know where they would be safe, but he knew they wouldn't be able to outrun it for long and if Dad was hurt then they had to get to him too. He would know what to do, and then they could go home and John could ground them for a month and that way they'd be completely safe.

There was another problem Dean was fast growing aware of. The snow was falling faster and faster, and that meant they could be in for a storm… how was he going to get to their father, protect them all from the creature, AND get them out of the storm all by himself?

The question got a lot more complicated when Dean heard a loud crack and saw the ground give way under Sammy.

Sammy cried out in surprise as he fell, and Dean barely managed to stop himself from tumbling after him. He dropped to his knees beside the hole as he looked down into nothing but darkness…

…and heard the echo of a disturbing thud that was followed by nothing but silence.

"SAMMY?!?"

**SUPERNATURAL**

** A/N - Reviews welcome :)  
**


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: They're not mine, nothing changed over night and I still don't get paid to do this.

**Chapter Two**

**A Long Way Down  
**

Dean waited, hoping to hear some response from his little brother that would tell him he was alive. When there was no sound, not even a tiny whimper, Dean felt an immediate lump form in his throat that was so big he felt like he would choke on it. Sammy was his little brother, his responsibility! It was his job to keep him safe, it always had been, and yet on this one night he couldn't even keep him safe in a car that was locked up tight!

"Sammy?" Dean called again, trying to keep the panic out of his voice and the volume a little lower than earlier so he wouldn't bring the creature down upon them. The last thing they needed now was to be the hunted… and Dean really hoped that his father wasn't really far away and would be able to find them soon, because there was no way Dean was going to be able to get Sammy out of here safely now… he was bound to have been hurt after a fall like that.

Dean still heard nothing from the dark pit before him, and he dropped to his stomach, leaning as far into the pit as he dared before the threat of falling in pushed him back. He couldn't see very far inside. He had no idea how deep it was or what kind of jagged rocks were along the side – or at the bottom! What if Sammy had fallen on a pile of rocks? He could have been killed!

A twig snapped behind Dean and he rolled onto his back, his flare gun immediately trained at the bush in front of him, but once again there was nothing to be seen. No Dad, no creature, nobody to help…

A tiny whimper tumbled out of Dean's throat as he realised how alone he was and how dire the situation was. He was certain that it was probably even worse than he realised, but he knew it was bad. Sammy was hurt, he was at the bottom of a pit in the dark with a nasty snow storm on its way, and Dean had no idea what else was in the woods… a deadly, supernatural creature, he knew that, but woods held other dangers that he had no idea about.

Pulling himself to a sitting position, Dean dangled his legs over the edge of the pit. Whatever was going to happen tonight, Sammy wasn't going to be alone at the bottom of a pit. If he was hurt, Dean would be there with him… and if he died, then Dean wouldn't let him die alone – he'd rather die right along with him.

Dean tucked the flare gun into his waistband, shoved the shotgun underneath a nearby bush out of sight, and gently lowered himself into the hole. He had climbed numerous trees in his small life, but he'd never been rock climbing and this pit was definitely rock-climbing. He tried to find footholds while still holding onto the edge of the hole, but it was difficult. His sneakers weren't helping him get very good traction, and he was certain that if he had boots like his father's it would have been easier. But Sammy needed him, and he had to find a way to get to him!

Finally his foot found a jagged rock…

SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

John dropped to his knees in front of the Impala where he had been pacing back and forth. His head was spinning and his stomach was protesting again, though this time he was certain it wasn't just the concussion at fault but his fear and guilt over his missing boys. As he dry-wretched, he told himself he would have to pull himself together and get moving before that damn creature found his boys…

Taking a deep breath, John grabbed the Impala's hood and pulled himself to his feet, fighting the dizziness that threatened. He didn't have time to give in to the symptoms of a concussion, he had to figure out where Dean and Sammy were and why they had left the safety of the car. He had told them specifically that they were to stay put, no matter what…

He pulled the door open again and peered inside the car as if he were going to find them huddled inside somewhere. He wished he could blame their absence on the vision problems he was having, as if blurry vision were enough to explain why he couldn't see his boys, but he knew that wasn't the way it worked. He was suffering from a concussion, not some unexplainable invisible children! He silently cursed himself for dragging the boys into this life with him, and wondered if there had been any other alternative. He could have taken them to live with Pastor Jim and gone on the hunt alone, visiting them every now and then, but he could never stand the thought of being away from them for such long stretches at a time. He hated the thought of being away from them, period, but until they were old enough to join him on the hunt it wasn't possible for him to be with them every second of every day the way he wished he could.

There had been only one option… maybe he should never have started hunting in the first place. He wondered what their lives would have been like if he'd stayed in Lawrence, working at the garage fixing cars while his boys went to school. Would they have been happier? Could John have survived Mary's death if he'd tried to carry on as if nothing had ever happened? Could he ignore what he had seen that night? What if he'd never learned the truth, would he have been able to sleep at night?

He knew the answers to every one of those questions, and wished that he didn't. He wished he could say that he could have raised his boys in a completely normal home after their mother had died, that he could have carried on, but he knew he would never have survived having seen her burning on the ceiling… he had to find out the truth, and he had no choice once he'd known but to fight it with every ounce of his being.

Whatever that thing had wanted, John was determined to find out and then send it straight back to hell – or wherever it was that the unnatural came from. He still hadn't worked out all the details of that, yet, and the jury seemed to be out on the whole heaven and hell issue.

John realised his mind was wondering and he fought to bring it back to reality. He saw blankets in a bundle on the seat, but no sign of the boys anywhere… the guns were gone, and so was Sammy's book. That seemed odd. He knew Dean would have taken the guns with him when they'd left, but why would Sammy take his book? It was his most prized possession, and John would have thought he want it to be safe… unless Sammy thought they weren't going to be gone very long. He thought they would be back soon, and he hadn't wanted to be without that book! Whatever reason they had left the confines of the car, they had thought they would be safe and they would be back really soon…

That very thought sent chills down John's spine. There was only one reason he could think of that the boys would have left the car, and that was if they had been under his orders to do so…

…but he hadn't given them orders to leave, and that could only mean one thing.

Before John could finish forming the thought, he fell to his knees on the ground as his stomach wretched uncontrollably…

SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

As Dean tried to hold his balance on that jagged rock, he felt it slip beneath him. It was too lose to hold his weight, he knew, and he didn't have long to figure out another way before he slipped and fell. Trying to keep as much weight off that rock as possible while using it for balance, he felt around with the other foot to find another.

It was a stretch for his nine year old legs, but he finally felt a bigger, better rock that would hold his weight. It was wider and further away from the wall, almost like a tiny ledge. It was took small to sit on but it was enough to hold his feet while he worked out handholds to climb down.

"It's okay, Sammy," Dean panted, hoping his brother was awake and able to hear him. "I'm on my way, just keep still…"

Silence met Dean's voice and he forced himself to swallow the bile that rose in his throat as hie considered the sort of injuries Sam may have suffered, and images of his tiny, broken, bleeding body flashed before Dean's eyes. He forced himself to focus on the task at hand and found himself climbing passed the tiny ledge. The climb was a little easier for a few minutes as there were more rocks for him to use like ladders, but he soon caught a snag…

…or, rather, a snag caught him.

He tried to lower himself to the next foothold, his arms aching and his breathing coming out in ragged grunts, when he suddenly realised he couldn't move. Something had caught hold of his arm and he couldn't move it.

Dread filled Dean's chest as he realised that he had no idea how to get out of whatever had grabbed him and he suddenly realised that, if he couldn't get himself free, he was going to be stuck there. He didn't have the strength to hold himself there for long, and Sammy needed him… there was no other option, he had to get free and he had to figure it out fast.

Dean replaced the foot he had tried to move and felt the rock it was on shifting under his weight. Tiny pebbles dislodged around the rock and fell to the bottom of the hole, making Dean wonder how deep it really was as they bounced and echoed on their path to the bottom. He took a deep breath and looked closely at his hand, trying to figure out what had caught him. He could feel a tightness around his wrist and arm, but he couldn't quite make out what was causing it.

Letting go of the handhold with his left hand, he reached over to his right hand to feel around and see what had hold of him, and discovered two rocks that had shifted around the handhold and closed in on his arm. It had been a subtle shift with possibly dire consequences, but they had a good grip on him and Dean knew he couldn't move the rocks completely without sending himself to the bottom of what seemed like a bottomless pit.

Instead, he tried to wiggle them to loosen their grip, but nothing happened. They were happy where they were, and there was no amount of movement he could force into them to make it possible to get free.

There was only one way out, and it was going to hurt… a lot!

SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

John pulled himself to his feet again, grabbing his flare gun and training it on the woods around him. Had he heard a noise? Another twig snapping around him? Had he imagined the sound of something sneaking up to him? John knew he wasn't that lucky, so he hurried toward the trunk. Trying to cover himself and get the trunk unlocked at the same time, he fumbled and dropped the keys twice. The first time he had caught them middair, but the second time he missed and heard them hit the ground.

He dropped to his knees and tried to pick them up without looking, but couldn't find them. He felt around with his free hand, and still nothing met his fingers. Finally realising that he wouldn't be able to locate the missing keys without taking his eyes off the woods, he turned his attention to the ground before him and tried to find the keys.

Nothing.

He lowered his face to the ground and peered under the car. They were sitting just beyond his reach and he knew he wouldn't be able to grab them quickly. Fear pounded in his chest as he realised he was in a perfectly vulnerable position for the Wendigo to sneak up on him, and if it caught him then there would be no one left to save his boys.

John launched himself under the car, further than he had ever thought he would be able to fit, and grabbed the keys. He struggled to get back out again, worried he had gotten himself stuck. It was his coat that had gotten caught, so he wiggled out of it and pulled himself out again before reaching in to grab his coat. He wasn't sure how long it had taken to get out, keys in hand, but the minute he got to his feet he saw it…

The elusive Wendigo was heading right toward him… fast!

John raised the flare gun, barely having time to aim, and pulled the trigger. He missed, and the Wendigo retreated into the woods. He knew how lucky he had been, that these creatures could move a damn sight faster than he ever could, but he had scared it off for the time being and now all he could do was hope he hadn't sent it in the direction his boys had gone.

John pushed the thought aside and opened the trunk. He pulled out a handful of spare flares that he stuffed in his pocket, a torch with some spare batteries just in case… and a spare duffle bag that he stuffed blankets and a first aid kit into. He had no idea where the boys were or if anything had happened to them, but he was trying to fight through foggy thoughts to be able to plan for every contingency…

…yet, as he left the Impala behind him and headed into the woods, John had a horrible feeling that he had forgotten something important.

SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

Dean tugged at his right arm with his left and nearly over-balanced completely. He grabbed the handhold again, realising that however he was going to get out of this he was going to have to do it with one hand. It was too dangerous to let go. Gripping to the rock to hold himself up with his left hand, Dean began tugging his right arm again. He felt his shoulder protesting and pain shooting up his arm as he felt skin tearing at the rock. His jacket had already torn through to the flesh on his arm, and there was nothing left to protect the bare skin.

Stopping for a moment as tears filled his eyes and sweat beaded along his forehead, Dean panted and tried to catch his breath. His arm was hurting like nothing he had ever felt before, and what made it worse was that Dean knew Sammy was below him somewhere and needed him. Sammy still hadn't said anything, and Dean worried about what that might mean… and the longer it took him to reach the younger boy, the worse the scenario's in his mind became.

"It's okay, Sammy," Dean told his little brother, hoping that he could hear on some level even if he wasn't conscious. He always heard on TV that coma patients could hear people speaking to them, so why couldn't Sammy? "I'm okay, and I'm coming to get you!"

Still, not a sound reached his ears aside from the pounding in his head from the effort of climbing and trying to tear skin off his arm to get it out from between the rocks. Dean sighed. He'd been tugging and pulling for what must have been ten minutes already, and he had only felt a little movement so far. He knew he was getting some nasty grazes on his arm, but he couldn't worry about that now. He had to get to Sammy.

Taking a deep, shaky breath, Dean pulled on his arm with all his might, growling with the effort and felt his arm shift… stopping only when he felt a sharp edge of rock cut into his arm and blood trickle from the wound.

The pain was so great that Dean felt light headed as he tried to fight a wave of nausea. He'd never had to do anything like this before, and he wasn't sure he was built quite as strong as his father… it didn't matter, because wherever that strength was hiding, he had to find it so he could get free and climb the rest of the way to his little brother.

He just hoped there was strength in there somewhere, because without it, Sammy was…

"No," Dean yelled, as if trying to stop his brother from touching the hot stove. "You're not going anywhere, Sammy! You're going to be… FINE!"

Dean yanked his arm free on the last word, 'fine' coming out as a cry of outrage and pain. He felt blood dripping down his arm, but tried to ignore it as he found a different handhold to grab onto. The would must be just a scratch, he decided as he managed to hold his weight in spite of the pain. Reaching his leg down in search of another foothold, however, he slipped…

A gasp of air escape Dean's mouth before he could scream, and he hit the ground…

Lying still a minute, Dean let the world stop spinning around him as he tried to focus. He hadn't fallen far, he had already climbed most of the way down and yet he knew how lucky he was to be conscious. The only other thing he was painfully aware of was that there was no way out of the hole if he had to carry his little brother…

…and yet there were no other options.

SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

John hit the path with determination in his step and fear in his heart. He had never been so set on killing anything before, not even the thing that had killed Mary. But his boys were out there somewhere, possibly hurt, and that creature was no doubt after them – and nothing, NOTHING was going to stop him from burning it to ashes before it could lay one claw on his boys.

Hesitating, John trained the torch on the ground before him. It was a mess of prints, but what he could make out sent him into a cold sweat… two sets of prints small enough for only his boys to have made, and a set of huge Wendigo prints. They were all headed in the same direction, and John could see right away that the Wendigo had travelled this path more than once. He was certain that it had followed his boys along the path already, and then doubled back when it had realised where John was going…

The boys were already in serious danger!

John set on his journey at a faster pace, wishing he had explained more to Dean about what a Wendigo was and what it was capable of. He had told him that it was a supernatural creature that lived in the woods and came out to hunt every twenty years and then hibernated again, but he hadn't wanted to scare him with too many details because he knew that Wendigos were awesome hunters, viscous killers and he had to leave knowing that Dean believed him when he said he was coming home.

He should have told him that Wendigos could mimic human voices, maybe then Dean would have known John hadn't been calling him… that was the only explanation that John could think of as to why the boys had left the car. The wendigo must have called out to them, asking for help and Dean… Dean had an all-consuming sense of need to protect his family. At nine years old, that was a huge responsibility to take on yourself, and John knew that Dean didn't always think clearly when things went wrong. If he had been worried about his father, it might not have occurred to Dean to stay…

John had told him to stay, no matter WHAT! He wished that Dean could just put aside that responsibility and do as he was told for a change. He was a good kid, but he had a habit of doing things that John didn't want him to do and it often led to trouble. This time, it could lead to getting Sammy killed, and Dean too, and John was sick at the thought.

Dean should have stayed in the car! Anger mingled with fear as his feet stomped along the path and he tried to figure out where the boys had gone. He knew it wasn't rational to be angry with Dean when he had been trying to help and tricked by a creature that he was in no way prepared to deal with, but John couldn't help it. Concern over the safety of his sons turned into rage at them disobeying direct orders designed to keep them safe, and he couldn't help let it consume him. Besides, it gave him the drive to finish the hunt and kill that creature before it had a chance to get to his boys.

SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

Dean glanced around him, trying to feel around for his brother. His eyes were slowly adjusting to the darkness, but still he could only make out shapes, and most of them were ragged around the edges and didn't instill much confidence in him that his little bother had survived the fall. Sammy was only little, afterall, how could he have survived such a fall?

A glimpse of Sammy's coat caught Dean's attention and he hurried in that direction as quickly – and carefully – as he could. Sammy was lying impossibly still, his face ashen. Dean couldn't hear him breathing, so he bent toward him to listen closer. Holding his own breath in fear, he waited… a tiny breath escaped Sammy's lips, but it sounded ragged and shallow.

"Sammy?" Dean croaked, brushing Sammy's hair out of his eyes. "Can you hear me?"

Dean got no answer, and he had given up on expecting one by now. He reached out and began checking Sammy's head for injuries, moving down to his neck and shoulders. He had seen Pastor Jim do this to his father after a hunt, and though he wasn't entirely sure what he was looking for, he hoped he would know it when he found it… what he really hoped for was that he wouldn't find it, that Sammy would be sitting here reading that stupid book over and over again as if nothing had happened.

But that was too much to hope for after all. Sammy was unconscious, but Dean couldn't find any injuries around his head, neck or shoulders. That meant that he had probably been knocked out, but hopefully it was nothing more serious than that. Dean moved his search lower, checking Sammy's chest and abdomen…

His abdomen felt firm. He'd heard Pastor Jim say that that was a bad thing, and Dean immediately pulled away from his brother. He wasn't sure exactly what a firm abdomen meant, but if it worried Pastor Jim, then it scared the hell out of Dean!

Dean reached his hand out to his brother's face.

"Sammy?" he began, nearly choking on his brothers name. "Sammy, you gotta wake up now, okay?"

Dean was beginning to get really afraid that his brother would never open his eyes again, that Dean would never hear his voice again, that whatever was wrong with him would be what killed him. Sammy was only five years old and Dean couldn't stand the thought that he had failed him already. Five years after being pulled from a fire that killed their mother? Only to die from falling into a hole in the ground? That couldn't happen! It just couldn't! It didn't make sense to Dean that his little brother would survive once, only to die five years later… he should have a longer life than that! A happier life than the one they had without their mother… but at least they had their father, and nothing could change that. Dean was determined that his family would be together again. He knew that, as soon as their father found them, everything would be okay.

"Dad'll know what to do, Sammy," Dean told his brother, trying to sound braver than he felt. "But you have to wake up now, okay? Sammy, please wake up!"

SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

John was ducked behind a bush with his flare gun at the ready when he heard a rustling up ahead. He had no idea if it was even the wendigo, but he had no choice but to assume that it was. He knew how to kill it, but it was a better hunter than he could ever hope to be and he knew that if he didn't take the chance to kill it if he had the upper hand then it would kill him and his boys.

He stared straight ahead as he saw leaves and branches moving across the path from him. He held his breath, waiting for the creature to appear. His hands shook slightly and he knew that he couldn't blame that on the concussion, he could only admit that he was afraid – not for his life, but about what would happen to his boys if he were killed.

The branches parted.

Silence filled the air.

John took aim…

…and a young man jumped into the clearing, shotgun raised, a yell that could only be described as a war cry left his lips. John lowered his gun and sighed, getting to his feet. He had a horrible feeling that the 'thing' he had been tracking wasn't the wendigo but this man playing Rambo instead. He got to his feet and headed straight for the man. He was tall and lanky with dark hair and a pale skin that was beginning to show signs of being in the snow too long. He was showing no signs of lowering his weapon, but John was in too much of a hurry to care and walked straight up to him, pulling the gun from the man's weak grip.

"What the hell are you playing at?" John asked him, real venom in his voice as he realised that this guy could be keeping him from finding his sons. "What are you doing here?"

"Hunting that thing," the man said, his voice a rush of excitement. "Who are you?"

"None of your business is who I am," John answered. "You could have gotten yourself killed, you know."

The man laughed.

"Me? What were going to do, shoot some pretty colours at me with your flare gun there?"

"I'm hunting the creature, you moron."

"You? With a flare gun? That's not going to do jack against this thing! It's not even a real weapon!"

"It's a damn sight more useful against this thing that your shotty there," John snapped. "You have any idea what this thing is?"

The man hesitated.

"Not exactly," he admitted. "Just some kind of wild animal, and you kill wild animals with guns…"

John shook his head.

"You're an idiot, you have no idea what you're doing," John told him, stalking down the path in the hopes of salvaging something from this hunt. "It's probably gone now."

"It wont be going far, don't worry," the man told him.

"What's your name?" John asked him, turning to face him.

"Abe Sinclair… I'm a hunter."

John chuckled.

"A hunter, huh?" he asked. He glanced back up the path, took a deep breath and tried to make his eyes focus properly. There was still no sign of danger so he turned his attention back to Abe. "And what makes you think that this creature isn't going to get far?"

"I've set traps all around the clearing where it does it's hunting," Abe told him. "Mostly off the path, but it doesn't seem to have to restrict where it goes, so I've put it along a couple of the paths as well. I've been tracking this thing for a while now, and I've figured out how it thinks."

"How it thinks? You have no idea how this thing thinks, believe me," John snapped, his eyes flashing with anger even as he tried to keep his voice down. He wasn't particularly successful at the latter, and his head throbbed with protest. A thought flashed through his mind, and John immediately felt sick. "What kind of traps?"

"A couple of bear traps… a few things I rigged up myself, my own personal design," Abe explained, looking proud of himself and completely unaware of how much danger he was actually in. "And the good old fashioned hidden pit. No way anything's getting out of there alive."

John's stomach sank. If the boys were out here looking for him, there was no telling what they had run into… the creature, this moron, or one of the moron's traps. Either way, the end result was the same – the boys were in serious trouble and they had no idea how much…

…and neither did John.

Before he realised what he was doing, his hands were around Abe's throat and he had pushed him to the ground.

"You're going to take me on a little tour," John snapped at him angrily. "You're going to show me every one of your so-called traps and you'd better hope they're as inept as you are."

Abe was shaking beneath John's grasp, his eyes pleading with him for help, and finally John pulled himself off him and got unsteadily to his feet. He could no longer tell whether it was the concussion or fear for his boys that made him feel so weak…

"Wh-what did I do wrong?" Abe asked, not moving from his position sprawled on the ground.

"You set traps, you idiot, for something you know nothing about!" John yelled, tossing him his shotgun. "Who knows what you're really going to catch in there!"

"What else is there to catch?"

"My boys!" John yelled, wanting to launch himself at Abe again but holding off because he knew that Abe was his one and only lead to find them. "My sons, you idiot! My sons are out here, and you could get them killed with one of those stupid traps!"

Abe swallowed, guilt showing clearly in his eyes.

"I… I… I couldn't have kn-known th-that they w-were here," Abe stammered, getting to his feet. "I'm sorry, I-I didn't know!"

John glared at him once more before stepping aside and indicating that Abe should hurry up and show him the nearest trap.

"You'd better pray they're not caught in any of those traps…"

**SUPERNATURAL**


	3. Chapter 3

A/N – Hi all! Sorry for the delay, but once again RL took over for a while there as we celebrated our wonderful news! We've just found out that our baby is going to be a girl, so there's be a world of excitement and planning and celebrating going on… now that we're ready to paint the nursery, I've been instructed to park myself in front of the computer and relax as much as possible… which I did ever so grudgingly, as you can imagine! Anyway, here's another chapter, I hope you like it!

Disclaimer: They're not mine, nothing changed over night and I still don't get paid to do this.

**Chapter Three**

**Once Upon A Time In a Dark, Dark Place**

Sammy still hadn't moved and his breathing remained shallow and pained. It sounded more like a rattle than a breath, and it was only one of the things that had Dean worried. He had seen enough movies to hear about the so-called 'death rattle' that came with a persons last breath, but since he had never been there when someone had actually died he wasn't sure if it was a real thing or something that movie makers had created to freak people out and make dying that much more dramatic.

Dean had no intention of finding out now… Sammy wasn't going to be the first person Dean watched die, no way!

He was sill worried about the apparent injury to Sammy's abdomen, wishing he knew what that meant and how he could make it better. All he knew was that that was one thing Pastor Jim had always said he'd insist be treated at a hospital, and his father had never disagreed. Luckily they had never faced it before, and now that Sammy was the one lying before him with that very symptom, Dean felt panicked that it was the unfixable.

There were rocks surrounding Sammy, holding him in place. They didn't look very comfortable, but Dean wasn't sure he should move them because he wasn't sure if that might cause more damage or not. If there were broken bones, could moving the rocks away dislodge them and cause more problems? Dean didn't want to find out. Instead he kept the rocks where they were. He had already taken his jacket off and laid it over the tiny form of his brother to try and protect him from the cold as snow slowly began drifting into the hole.

If their father didn't find them soon, Dean wasn't sure how long they would be able to last before…

He shook his head, immediately regretting it as pain raced through his head and neck from his own fall. He wasn't worried about what injuries he might have sustained since his fall was a lot shorter than Sammy's, but the pain still wasn't helping him. He wasn't sure how long he had been in the hole for, or how long Sammy had been unconscious for, but it felt like hours had passed since they had left the car. He was cold and anxious, hungry and scared, and he would admit to anyone who asked that he had already cried in fear for his little brother more than once.

He didn't care who knew it! He was afraid and alone and he didn't know how to help Sammy. There was nothing he could do for his brother's injuries, and there was nothing more he could do to make him more comfortable or warmer. He couldn't move him, especially since he may have hurt his back or neck and he knew that you should never move someone who may have sustained such injuries. Too much risk of paralysis – or worse. To top it all off, there was no way Dean would be able to get Sammy out of the hole by himself.

The best thing he could do for Sammy was to be there with him, and to let Sammy know he wasn't alone. He curled up uncomfortably on the rocks beside Sammy, ignoring the pressure they put on his hip and ribs and laid a hand on Sammy's to let him know he was there. He pressed himself as close as he dared, offering what body heat he could to Sammy's to try and fend off the cold, but he wasn't sure how much he was helping.

Dean wanted to talk to him, to let Sammy hear his voice so he would know he was there for him, but he didn't know what to say that he hadn't already said. He had pleaded with Sammy to wake up for what seemed like an eternity, and when that hadn't worked he had repeated over and over that their father would find them soon and then everything would be okay…

And now the silence was giving Dean a headache. Logically he knew the headache was from his own bump on the head and the stress of the situation – perhaps the cold he was already suffering – but that didn't change the fact that he had to do something to fill the silence before he jumped out of his skin waiting for something to make a noise.

Dean crawled around him with sudden inspiration, wishing he could see better through the dark. He was feeling around with his hands, desperately searching for Sammy's most prized possession and after what must have been ten minutes he still hadn't found it. Not sure when Sammy had lost it but knowing that it wasn't much use to him in the dark anyway, Dean settled back against his brother.

He smiled down at his brother, trying to look more confident than he felt.

"Once upon a time, in the dark, dark woods, was a little girl in a red cloak that everyone called Little Red Riding Hood," Dean began, adlibbing the bits that he didn't remember word for word. He saw a glimpse of something cross his brothers face and hope pounded in his chest. "Little Red was going to her grandmothers house to take her some fresh bead and cheese, when…"

Sammy moaned.

Dean jumped up, instantly alert for anything that could be causing more pain or discomfort to Sammy. Seeing nothing, he glanced back at the pale facial features that were now scrunched up in agony as Sammy's eyes fluttering.

"Sammy?" Dean croaked, the lump forming freshly in his throat as new tears threatened to spill over onto his cheeks. "Sammy? You with me?"

Sammy moaned again, and this time his eyes fluttered open and his breath caught in his throat as a gasp of pain threatened to choke him.

"D-Dean?" Sammy gasped.

"Yeah, little brother?" Dean asked, leaning forward so Sammy could see him without moving.

"I don't wanna hear that story anymore," Sammy told him, sweat breaking out on his brow at the effort of talking. "No more scary wolves."

Dean frowned, realising that Sammy had related the creature that had chased them to the evil wolf from the fairy tale, and instantly regretted trying to tell the story. He should have seen the parallel there, but instead he had just thought of the easiest way to make Sammy feel better. He should have known not to tell a story about a little girl getting eaten by a wolf!

"Sorry, Sammy," Dean apologised immediately, guilt rising in his throat until it nearly choked him.

"I… I don't feel… well," Sammy muttered, his voice beginning to fade again.

"Are you in pain?" Dean asked, dreading the answer. The last thing he wanted to think about was his baby brother lying here in pain with nothing to help him. He didn't want Sammy to be suffering, he wished he could just go back to sleep but he knew that it was better that Sammy be awake so that Dean could try and figure out what's wrong with him.

Sammy nodded, lacking the energy to speak, but the instant his head moved tears sprung from his eyes and a cry escaped his lips. Dean closed his eyes for the briefest of moments to compose himself so he could be strong for his brother, but it was hard. He had to swallow the bile threatening it's way up his throat, and fight for control over his own tears. Sammy needed to feel safe, to know that they weren't going to die, that Dean wasn't afraid and that their father would find them soon.

Dean had no way of knowing that since he wasn't sure if his father was hurt or had made it back to the car. What if he didn't know they were missing? What if he was dying out there alone while Dean sat here with Sammy, forced to watch him die a slow and agonising death of his own before finally freezing to death?

"Try not to move, Sammy," Dean choked out, not sounding as strong as he wanted to. "You fell a long way… besides, Dad's going to find us, and when he does he'll know what to do. He'll get us out of here and then we'll be able to get you to the hospital… Dad'll fix it."

SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

Sammy scrunched his eyes shut, wishing he could believe his big brother but the dread that had settled in his chest told him that this was it. His life, as short as it was, was over. Five years of being on the road, sitting at home while his father risked his life. Watching TV all day because they weren't allowed to leave the motel room. Doing anything to pass the time when all he wanted was to be with his father and brother…

They should have gone to the beach. Sammy knew he was going to die without seeing the beach, and it didn't seem fair somehow. There were so many things that he hadn't done yet, it didn't seem fair that he was going to die now. He didn't want to leave his brother alone. Dean was a big brother, he always had been and Sammy didn't want to die and leave him without a little brother to take care of. Sometimes Dean complained about being saddled with him, but Sammy knew that if he hadn't had Sammy to look out for, he would have been lost.

And Dad! Sammy felt tears well in his eyes at the thought of leaving his father short a son. He knew his father would blame himself, that he would never recover from losing one of his boys after already having lost their mother. How could Sammy die knowing the pain that it would cause his father?

Sammy forced his eyes open as fear caught in his throat. Before he could stop the words from spilling out, he turned to his brother and said,

"I don't wanna die, Dean."

Dean's eyes widened with surprise and something else that Sammy couldn't identify from his awkward position broken on a pile of rocks. Could he see tears filling Dean's eyes? Sammy looked away, not wanting to see his brother looking so sad and lost.

It was a long moment before anyone spoke.

"No one's going to die, Sammy," Dean assured him. "Especially not you."

Sammy closed his eyes again. At first he just wanted to escape the emotion in his brother's eyes and voice, and then to escape the pain, and finally the darkness took him once more and he was floating…

SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

"How many damn traps did you set?" John growled. "We've been checking them for over two hours! If my boys are out here and hurt…"

He trailed off, allowing the unspoken threat to do the work that simple words would never be able to do justice to, and was satisfied when he saw the useless excuse for a hunter gulp with fear.

"I set a few," he admitted. "They're all over… mostly around areas that I know it's been, but also some places I haven't heard of any sightings or anything."

"Do you realise that once I kill this thing, people are going to start coming back?" John asked. "When they think it's safe? When they think there's nothing here to be afraid of? And those traps of yours are going to be just as dangerous as if the creature itself were hiding behind every bush!"

Abe flushed, swatting at a mosquito as casually as he could manage.

"I was just trying to help," he insisted again. John sighed, tired of hearing the same excuse time and time again. Every time John had a go at him for being so stupid and risking so many peoples lives – his boys included – when things were plenty dangerous enough. He was certain that if he heard Abe say that again he would shoot him.

And, in spite of being a hunter, John Winchester wasn't given easily to violence – not against humans anyway. Lucky for him, he thought, Abe barely qualified for the title of human. Most people weren't quite as stupid as he seemed to be.

John sighed again and forced himself to walk quicker, hearing Abe stumble behind him. Granted he didn't know where the traps were, but he figured Abe would have the sense to tell him which direction he had to go. Until he saw his boys and knew they were safe, John didn't think he could stand looking at Abe even from behind… he didn't trust himself not to lay him out.

He had a pointy nose. John hated that nose. It was right in the middle of the idiots face and somehow whenever he saw that nose it just made him angrier than ever before. It wasn't just big, it wasn't just pointy, it was like it was sitting there mocking him. Like it had taken up position in the center of Abe's face as a convenient location to constantly remind him of what was going on, taunting him with his children's disappearance.

Whenever John saw the pointy nose with the pathetically thin lips perched below, abnormally close to the oddly wide nostrils, John wanted to flatten his nose until his slipped between the stupid thin lips and then he would be able to watch Abe choke on it. The thought was satisfying, but it did nothing to calm John so he pushed it aside and just made sure he no longer looked at the man stumbling awkwardly behind him. He was making enough noise to wake the dead or attract a Wendigo, but John didn't shush him. Instead, he figured, if it did get the Wendigo's attention, then at least John would have another opportunity to take the creature down and make things at least a little safer for his boys.

SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

"Once upon a time, there were two little boys named Sam and Dean," Dean's voice rang out shakily, tears streaking down his face uncontrolled. Dean made no effort whatsoever to wipe them away, no longer caring if his father found him like that… he wasn't sure it matter anymore if they were found, anyway. Sammy had lost consciousness again, his pulse was growing weaker and his body had cooled in spite of Dean's efforts to warm him. This might be one of those times that John Winchester couldn't save his boys, Dean thought miserably. He took a deep shaky breath and closed his eyes against the thought, determined to force hope back into his chest. "They were best friends, and best of all, they were brothers…"

Dean's voice trailed off as his breath caught painfully in his throat. He remained silent for a minute as he tried to get control again, but he couldn't seem to stop himself shaking. He was holding Sammy in his arms, now, having replaced the rocks around his brothers head with his body, cradling Sammy's unconscious form in his lap as best he could. He had managed to do it without moving him, by keeping his neck straight like he was sure he was supposed to, but he wasn't sure it had been the right thing to do. Still, the contact helped him feel better and he figured it had to help Sammy feel better too.

His hand was resting gently on Sammy's chest, feeling the shaky rise and fall as his little brother struggled to breathe and monitoring the faint beating of his heart.

"The older brother did everything he could for his little brother," Dean continued, unable to keep the emotion from his voice anymore and not bothering to try. "He tried to keep him safe, he taught him how to read and walk, and to tie his shoes… they were together all the time. No matter how annoying the little brother got, the big brother loved him anyway and that's what frustrated him most. Even when Sam was being a little brat, a royal pain in the… well, a royal pain, he could never hate him, never really be mad at him, and sometimes he was even laughing on the inside."

Sammy let out a gasp of pain through whatever darkness had taken hold of his tiny body, and Dean immediately stopped talking. The rise and fall of Sammy's chest had stopped and Dean waited with no breath of his own to see what would happen next…

A moment later, as if a weight was lifted from his body, Sammy relaxed slightly under Dean's touch and he started breathing again. As Dean's head swam with relief, he let out his own pent up breath and closed his eyes against the tears again.

"But what Sam never knew, was that the most important job in the family was his. He kept his brother alive too. He gave him something to do, something to think about, something to care about, and no matter what stupid thing Dean did, no matter how much of an idiot he was being, he always knew that Sam loved him and that would never change… somehow, no matter what was happening, knowing that Sam was there and was alive and healthy always made everything else bearable. There was no other option for Dean because without Sam he didn't exist. He had nothing to live for… nothing else mattered."

Sammy's body tensed again and Dean waited. The tension didn't subside, so Dean began drawing slow, soothing circles on his brother's chest as he continued his story. He was no longer sure who he was telling this story for, him or Sammy… but he felt like he had to tell it, as if it would remind Sammy how important it was he lived and therefore give him the strength he needed to fight his injuries.

"One day, Sam and Dean were out in the woods and there was a big well. They were fooling around, play fighting, when something scared Sam and he stumbled backwards until he fell in. Dean tried to grab him, but he couldn't, and as his brother fell into the darkness and was taken from Dean's sight, fear overcame the older brother and he found that he couldn't breathe. The very fact that Sam was gone, even just into the shadow of the well, was enough to physically injure Dean and he immediately climbed in after him…" Dean hesitated, wishing that he knew how the story was going to end. He guessed that would depend on his father, but he wasn't sure anymore. He felt Sammy relax under the gentle circles and Dean, hoping that he was helping, continued to draw them on his brothers chest. "Dean was so worried about Sam that he didn't think of anything else when he was hurrying after him. All he knew was that his brother's life, his life, his family's life, depended on Sam being okay."

Dean couldn't continue his story as tears welled in his eyes and his body began to shake uncontrollably as he cried opening. He lowered his head to his brothers, holding him tighter to him as if willing his strength into his brother's body – anything that would save him.

"Sammy, please…" he begged. "You have to be okay… Please…"

SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

Forty five minutes later, John guessed, was when he first heard the noise that made his heart clench painfully in his chest. It seemed far away, somehow, and yet the direction couldn't have been far. He tried to follow the sound, to identify it, but it eluded him. It was human, he was sure of that, but it was distorted somehow.

"You got any traps around here?" John asked the man he knew was following behind him.

"Over there," Abe said, pointing toward a path ten feet to the right of where they were. John squinted trying to see, but it made no difference. He gave up and sighed. Abe, wisely holding his position, pointed further up the path they were on as if to silently suggest they continue along their way. "There's a turn off not far from here…"

John barely heard him as his feet automatically followed the man's directions. He kept his ears trained to that sound… Something caught his eye and he stopped at the mouth of the path, stooping to pick the object up. It was Sammy's book, lying to the side of the path covered in dirt and leaves. John's heart caught in his throat as he realised that he had found his sons… and that there were claw marks on the book. He shoved the book into his duffel bag and continue to run toward the trap and the closer he got to it the more he knew the sound was somehow familiar. Unusual, rare even, but still familiar.

"Dean!" John called suddenly as realisation hit him. He ran the last few feet of his path before taking the turn that Abe had told him was there. "DEAN!"

"John, wait!" Abe yelled, running after him. John was already way ahead of the man, but he somehow managed to grab him but the jacket and pull him back three feet from the pit before him. "If you don't fall in, you're gonna knock a whole lot of rocks in on top of them."

John breathed a sigh of relief that Abe had at least done something right, and dropped without a word to his stomach, leaning over into the pit. He could still hear the sound that had caught his attention and he silently hoped that it really was his son and not the Wendigo doing a great impersonation of fear and pain.

"Grab my bag!" John called to Abe, indicating the back he had dropped further back. Abe hurried over to it, pulling it open. "The flashlight!"

Abe handed it to him. John switched it on and aimed it into the hole, gasping at how far down the walls went. He didn't want to hazard a guess as to how far it was, and he really didn't want to ask Abe, but he knew he had to find out.

"How deep?" he asked finally, his voice trembling.

"Fifteen feet," Abe told him. "This was the deepest one, I was going to trap it here and bury it so it could never get out…"

John swallowed as he continued to train the light further down the hole. He was relieved that his flashlight was so strong, otherwise it might never have illuminated the hole far enough… but that relief turned to nausea as he caught sight of his boys. Sam was laying awkwardly on his back, his head cradled in Dean's lap as Dean clung to him.

"Dean?" John called, trying to sound gentle even while his heart pounded in his ears. "Dean? Can you hear me?"

Dean looked up, his face pale, his eyes wide.

"I think Sammy's…" he sobbed. John could see his eldest was shaking even from his distance and dreaded what he was going to say next. "I think Sammy's dying…"

SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

The minute Dean heard his father's voice above him, he tried to speak, tried to call out for him. No words would work as his throat seemed to close up around them, and all he could manage were more tears. He held his brother and felt himself shaking, wishing, praying, hoping that his father would be able to reach them and somehow fix it all but what little confidence he had had earlier was fast evaporating.

Sammy was so cold…

"It's okay, Dean," John called out, his voice sounding hollow even as Dean realised it was supposed to be reassuring. "I'm coming to get you! Just stay with your brother and don't move… try and protect your heads from any falling rocks, okay?"

John's face, barely visible from behind the light that seemed harsh to Dean's eyes, disappeared, and Dean glanced down at his little brother again. He huddled closer, trying to protect Sammy as his father had instructed, while uncertain how to protect his own head. Deciding that didn't matter, he focussed everything he had on keeping Sammy safe.

"You hear that, Sammy?" Dean asked, whispering in his brother's ear. "Dad's here… I told you he'd find us, right? Everything's going to be okay now, I promise…"

Dean's voice choked even as he heard himself say those final words. He hoped it was a promise he'd be able to keep, but considering the utter failure he had been at keeping Sammy safe on this particular evening, Dean didn't have much confidence that he could save him now.

Instead, he focussed what little confidence he had on his father, reminding him that that was John Winchester at the top of the pit and if anyone could save them it was him…

He held over just a little bit of hope for his brother, hoping it would find it's way into him and help him fight.

SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

"Take this," John ordered, immediately treating Abe as he had a rookie in the marines. Well, maybe he had more respect for the rookie since he'd never had the opportunity to kill his boys, but he knew he would have to put a little trust in the man if he was going to reach them safely. "Take it around that tree and secure it… but make sure you leave me plenty of give. Hang on to the end of the rope so you can help me get my son back up here."

"One of them hurt?" Abe asked.

John ignored the comment and secured the other end of the rope into a harness around him, leaving a section that he intended to use for his son's. He'd have to take them up one at a time, but he would deal with that. Right now the only thing he concentrated on was reaching them so he could assess their injuries.

Sammy was unconscious, that much was clear. Dean could still be hurt, but he sounded coherent – and afraid. John was certain that Dean's injuries probably fell more to the trauma of holding his dying brother in his arms than anything he might have sustained in a fall…

John was over the edge by the time Abe had finished securing the rope and he absailed his way to the bottom of the pit. It didn't take him long since he was so much taller than his boys, he made it to the bottom in a few good manoeuvres and one final swing that landed him mere feet from his sons. He dropped to his knees beside Dean, looking over Sammy quickly.

"His tummy," Dean murmured through his tears. "It's like Pastor Jim always worried about."

John furrowed his head, slightly confused by the comment, but immediately prodded his youngest boys abdomen. It was firm, distended… that was bad, really bad. As John prodded further, Sammy's eyes flew open with a look of blind pain as his body tensed and he doubled over himself as he screamed out in agony.

"Shit," John muttered, immediately pulling his hands from his sons body and shifting them to his face. "Sammy, come on… it's okay, I'm here… Dean's here, and we're going to get you out of here… I promise…"

Sammy leaned back against his brother but the screams remained, wrenching John's heart.

"Dean," John began, forcing his eyes away from Sammy for a moment. "I have to get you out of here, and then I'm coming back for Sammy okay?"

Dean shook his head, his lower lip trembling as his shivered with cold and shock and fear.

"I can't leave him," Dean begged.

"I know, son, but you have to. Just for a little while, okay?" John pushed gently. "There's a man up there that could use your help holding the rope, okay? Do you think you can go up and watch his back?"

Dean glanced back at Sammy and shook his head.

"Dammit, Dean!" John snapped, his voice harsher than he had wanted. "You're brother is bleeding, okay? He needs a hospital, and I don't have time to argue with you. Now, get up!"

Dean slipped out from under his brother, gently lying the younger boy down again.

"I'll see you in a minute, Sammy," Dean assured him. John knew that Sammy couldn't hear Dean through his panic and his pain, but Dean had to talk to him anyway. John wished he could kick himself right now, hating that he had to force Dean to leave his brother, that he had yelled at him after everything he had already been through, and now that he was leaving his youngest behind as he screamed in agony…

The climb to the top, though it only took him a few minutes, was the longest trip John had ever made. He immediately detached Dean and indicated he go and help Abe before he dropped to the bottom again.

Sammy was more difficult, since John had to secure him to the rope, hold onto him and climb, and all without hurting him anymore or causing anymore damage…

…and all of that with the boys agonised screams in his ears.

SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

It was another twenty minutes after John had gotten his boys out of the pit before they made it to the hospital. Abe was still with them, since John decided he wasn't safe to leave in the woods where he could do more harm than good.

Sammy was immediately rushed to surgery followed by a team of doctors and nurses, while Dean was led to the emergency room with his father in tow to get checked over. He was wrapped in a warm blanket and made to lay still while he was being examined, and John noticed that, above all else, Dean was still crying.

His son, his oldest boy, was normally not given to tears. He always tried to be brave and strong, and John appreciated that. Now that strength seemed to have dissolved and John found it more terrifying to see him looking so broken when normally he would see hope, spirit and determination in his eyes.

"You did great, Dean," John assured him, stroking his sons short-cropped hair gently. He saw Dean's lower lip tremble again as a look of disbelief crossed his face and it made John's heart ache for him. Dean was blaming himself for what had happened to Sammy, he was taking all of that responsibility upon himself and John knew that there was nothing he could say while they were there to make him realise that he had done everything right. "I'm so proud of you, son."

"Sammy…" Dean sobbed, sounding like he was four years old again instead of nine. "He's going to die, isn't he?"

John shook his head.

"The doctors are taking care of him, Dean," John assured him. "You just let them do their magic, huh? You don't have to worry anymore, just lay back and relax…"

The doctor had been examining Dean for injuries while John had been trying to soothe him, and now he happily reported that aside from a scrape on his arm and a bump on the head, Dean had emerged from the adventure unscathed. The arm needed some stitches and a dressing, but his head was repaired simply with some butterfly strips. Dean was repaired within half an hour… in that time, he was also hooked up to a drip to minister him fluids and antibiotics, and wrapped in warm blankets. Dean was moved to a room for the night, and no one bothered to try and remove John. He wore the look on his face that clearly warned everyone to leave him be, that visiting hours didn't apply to him and not a word was spoken to him about it.

It was four in the morning when the door to Dean's room opened and a doctor came in. John hadn't slept, and as he tore his eyes from his exhausted son, he realised that it was too soon for anyone to do anymore obs on Dean or for his drip to be changed, and since this was a doctor and not a nurse… and he was wearing scrubs with the slightest hint of red of them that John assumed he had come from theatre where Sammy had been treated.

The doctor had a grim look on his face that sent John's heart racing to his throat.

"How's Sammy," John asked, on his feet in an instant. He met the doctor at the door so that he wouldn't disturb Dean but he wouldn't have to leave him either, and the closer he got to the man the more worried he felt. "How's my son?"

"Mr Winchester," the doctor began, his tone warning that the following news was important and serious. "Sam had some pretty serious internal injuries. We had to remove his spleen, remove a section of his large intestine, and other various bleeds we came across. The most serious was that he had a collapsed lung that had to be taken care of, and while we managed to get that together it's uncertain whether we were entirely successful or not."

"What are you telling me?" John asked, trying to wrap his head around the information he was getting and wishing the doctor would stop speaking… well, whatever the medical lingo was it may as well be Japanese to John for all the sense he was able to make of it right now.

"Sam had a couple of broken ribs, and one of them punctured his lung. We've repaired the damage, but given his condition he's had to be put on a ventilator to help his body rest and regain strength before it has to deal with the strain of breathing on its own," the doctor explained gently. "He's stable right now, but only time will tell us how successful the treatment was…"

"Will he…" John gulped, struggling to suck in the necessary air to keep him on his feet as he realised he had moved Sammy while a bone was stuck into his lung. Understanding washed over him in a wave of nausea as he realised why the young boy had been screaming so much, the agony his body had been in and the war his mind had gone through to deal with it. "Will he…?"

The doctor sighed, a sad look evident in his eyes.

"I really wish I could tell you more, Mr Winchester," he admitted, genuine sincerity in his voice that John had never heard from a doctor before. "But there's really nothing more I can do. All anyone can do now is wait it out and hope that he's strong enough to pull through this on his own… we'll keep him comfortable and keep treating his injuries. If he wakes up…"

"If?" John nearly threw up all over the doctor as that tiny word escaped him in a gasp of barely contained terror.

"If he wakes up, Mr Winchester, it'll be because he's fought damn hard to survive," he continued. "It'll take a lot of effort and will from your son, and meanwhile all us mere mortals can do is stand by and wait…"

John closed his eyes, desperate to hide from the information the doctor was given him but unable to escape it. He felt like collapsing in a heap, like he had to be somewhere cool and dark where nothing as scary as the thought of losing Sammy would ever be able to get him… but he was a father, that was his son, and he knew there was no escaping it.

"Where is he?" John asked, finally opening his eyes.

"In ICU," the doctor told him. "You can go up now if you like…"

John glanced over at Dean and sighed. Faced with another hard decision, John didn't know what to do. Stay with Dean until he woke up and risk Sammy dying alone? Or sit with Sammy and risk a terrified and guilt-ridden Dean waking up alone. Neither option seemed feasable.

"Mr Winchester?" the doctor interrupted his raging thoughts before he left. "I just wanted to let you know… the surgery went well, it was fairly straight forward… we nearly lost him for a minute, and he did have a transfusion, but overall it was a success… the only thing now is that we don't know if there was too much damage done in the first place. But right now, he really does have the best chances he ever could to survive this."

John looked away again, unable to find any comfort in the doctor's words. He couldn't even find the strength to appreciate the intention behind them. How could he when the doctor had just spent the last fifteen minutes explaining why it was likely his precious baby boy would never open his eyes again… why he would never smile up at him… why he would never hear him call him 'Dad' again… why he would never have to leave the house and remind Dean of his number one job…

There was no comfort he could find in anything anymore, only that Dean was safe and well… but he knew all too well that that wouldn't matter if Sammy died. Dean would never be the same.

John wasn't sure either of them could survive losing the heart and soul of their family…

SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

Several hours later, John was holding his head in his hands, barely able to look at the tiny form of his son lying in the bed in front of him. He looked so fragile hooked up to so many machines. All of them had a job to do, and each job was keeping Sammy alive. That thought was impossible for John to get his head around right now, and he wondered when his life had turned into such a horrific nightmare.

Of course, he knew the answer to that question, but he refused to let his mind travel back the five years to re-experience the beginning. He didn't want to think about it, pushing the image of his beautiful wife's smiling eyes out of his minds eye as he forced himself to focus on his son.

He had no idea how long he had been with Sammy this time. He had made several trips during the hours Sammy had been out of surgery. He had spent time with each of his son's, passing sad looking nurses as they watch him trudge hopelessly down the hall, to the elevator and back to Dean's room… only to return a short time later with the same look of anguish on his face.

This time, however, John had lost track of time. He wasn't sure how long it had been since he'd checked in on Dean, but somehow he couldn't get his legs to move. He was stuck in the seat with no hope of leaving his youngest son alone for even a second. Every time he had left him earlier in the night had reminded him of leaving him in the pit while he got Dean to the surface, listening to his son screaming in pain… finally, John could bare the thought of walking away from him again. It just wasn't an option.

John reached beneath his chair and grabbed his duffle bag, looking for something – anything – to distract himself from thinking… thinking about anything. What was happening, what might happen, what life was going to be like… everything that was racing through his mind was too painful for him to consider. Everything thought unwelcome…

When the beg fell open on his knees his heart caught in his throat as he recognised the book he had shoved in there so many hours before. Truthfully he had no idea how long ago that had been, but the sight of the book brought it all back to him as if he were still living it.

Taking a deep breath to steady himself, John put the bag back down and opened the book.

"Once upon a time, in a dark, dark place…"

"NO!" Dean yelled from the doorway, running to his fathers side as a nurse followed him close behind, trying to restrain him before he hurt himself. John glanced up and saw the horrified look in his son's eyes and immediately closed the book.

"Dean? What's wrong?" he gasped, relinquishing control of the book when Dean pried it out of his hands and thew it against the wall. "What the…?"

"You can't read that!" Dean yelled, tears welling in his eyes. "Sammy doesn't want to hear it, it'll scare him!!!"

John was confused. He had never heard Dean sound so desperate, and so loud for that matter. He never raised his voice to him.

"Dean, what?"

"The wolf, Dad, the wolf'll get Sammy! He doesn't want to hear the story!" Dean continued as if he were able to make his father explain. "No more wolves, Dad, Sammy said so!"

Dean, a trembling and fearful mess standing before his father, couldn't seem to keep his balance anymore. He reached out to his father as his legs buckled beneath him and John scooped his weeping son into his arms easily and held him tight.

"I'm sorry, Mr Winchester," the nurse told him, her voice quiet. "He insisted on seeing his brother…"

John nodded to her as she left, laying a gentle kiss on the top of Dean's head as he pulled him a little closer.

"It's okay, Dean," John promised him. "No more wolves…"

**SUPERNATURAL**


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: They're not mine, nothing changed over night and I still don't get paid to do this.

**Chapter Four**

**Waiting, watching, dreaming…**

John rested his head gently on Dean's as they watched Sammy's chest rising and falling with the aid of the machine. The steady beeping of another machine told them that his heart was beating steadily. Other than the sounds of the machines that were keeping the youngest Winchester alive, the room was so silent that John was certain they would have been able to hear a ghosts footsteps.

He still didn't know what had actually happened. They had been at the hospital for two nights now, and Dean had barely spoken a word since he'd thrown Sammy's book at the wall and insisted there be no more wolves. He only slept when his body couldn't hold out any longer, and when he slept it was fitful and restless. He whimpered and cried and once woke up with Sammy's name bursting from his lips. John wished he knew what was going through his son's mind, what was invading his dreams, but he wasn't sure he'd ever get Dean to tell him. Whatever it was, it was clear that it continued to worry him. Dean wasn't as sensitive as he had once been. He grew out of that sensitivity as he'd learned more about the world of evil that John fought against, and he regretted that every time he saw the innocence fading from Dean's eyes. He wished that some of the hope that always filled Sammy's eyes could once again fill Dean's, but John knew it was too late.

Maybe he would be able to protect Sammy's innocence a little longer…

Dean shifted in John's lap and sighed. He had refused to leave the room, even when John had physically tried to carry him out. Dean had cried and pounded him with his fists until John finally settled him back on his feet and Dean had run to the opposite side of Sammy's bed, grabbed his brother's hand and held on tight as if Sammy would be able to anchor him to the spot and stop his father from making him leave.

Still Dean had said nothing, but the anger and fear in his eyes at the thought of leaving Sammy spoke volumes. John had considered ordering him out, knowing that Dean wouldn't disobey a direct order, but he didn't want to do that. The last time he had ordered Dean away from his brother, John had had to carry him as he cried and begged to stay with Sammy all the way up the top of the cliff and pry him from his arms so he could go back for Sammy. He didn't want to experience anything like that again, and clearly neither did Dean.

He wouldn't force Dean away from his little brother. So instead, John nodded grimly, announced he was going for coffee, and instead went to call in reinforcements.

Jim Murphy.

John had quickly outlined the problem and Jim had immediately grown silent. John felt his heart pounding in those few seconds but found his breathing return easier when he heard his old friend assure him he was on his way and would make the trip as quickly as possible. Even if John had been driving, he wouldn't be able to make it quicker than two days… which meant Jim should be there sometime the following day, John thought. He could hold out until then. Meanwhile, after hanging up from Jim he headed for the cafeteria and bought some food that he could keep with them so they wouldn't starve by Sammy's bedside at least… Dean had barely eaten since they come to the hospital, either, but John had to keep trying.

No way he was going to watch both his son's waste away. He couldn't control what was happening with Sammy, he could only wait… but he had more influence with Dean and his health, and so he forced Dean to eat whenever he could. Even to the point where he tore sandwiches to pieces and fed them to him the way he had when Dean was three… whatever it took, John was willing to keep him alive and well.

Once, however, a nurse came in while John was feeding Dean and checked Sammy's vitals. John had asked her how he was, and she had grimly responded that there was no change… hearing that, Dean ran for the nearest toilet and lost all of his lunch, unable to bear the thought that his brother wasn't at least getting better.

When he came back into the room, Dean had stood silently beside his brother's bed, not speaking.

"He's fighting it, Dean," John assured him. "No change doesn't mean he's not getting better, it means he's not getting worse… and besides, he is getting better, the machines and the doctors just can't see it yet… but we can. We know Sammy better than they do, and he's a fighter, remember? He's a little firecracker… he's going to be fine."

Dean didn't move, didn't flinch, he just stood there. It was as if he hadn't even heard his fathers words, like he wasn't even aware of him standing beside him. Finally John had taken him gently by the arm, pulled him back to the chair they had occupied together and pulled him back onto his lap.

And they still hadn't moved.

John wished that something would change, even if it was just hearing Dean's voice again. Hearing his oldest son say something – anything – would suggest some kind of improvement in the situation, and John found himself silently begging him to say something. There had been times when John had pleaded for the complete opposite – from both the boys – but now he wished for their fights, their laugh, their brotherly banter.

Anything that would suggest that his family still had some life left.

SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

Dean let his head rest against his fathers shoulder, drawing comfort from his strength. Somehow, whenever John Winchester was around, things didn't seem so scary, and Dean wished that the same could be said this time. Instead of feeling safe in John's arms, he felt tired and weary. He felt like he could rest some, but he was still afraid. Constantly afraid.

Afraid of facing a life without his little brother.

The doctors didn't talk to Dean, and they only talked to John outside the room where Dean couldn't hear. The nurses told John the usual 'no change' stuff in front of him, and normally Dean could deal with that. He just ignored it and pretended that 'no change' only applied to normal people, not Winchester's… but he knew deep down that that wasn't true. They were Winchester's, they were smart and strong, they were hunters… but they were still human, no matter how much they pretended otherwise. Something's they couldn't escape, and the harsh reality of their mortality appeared to be the latest one.

Dean's ability to ignore the nurses evaporated all at once, which made him throw up in rather spectacular fashion in the toilets. Dean was relieved that his father hadn't followed him, but when he got back he couldn't help but feel embarrassed and ashamed of his inability to remain strong like his dad. Now, when nurses came in, Dean hid his face in his father's neck and pretended to be asleep…

Feeling his eyes drooping shut involuntarily, Dean had enough time to snuggled in closer to his father to keep warm and safe before he slipped into dream land completely…

_Sammy was lying broken and battered before Dean, his head in his lap as he breathing came out in tiny gasps of rattling air. Dean felt helpless, knowing there was nothing he could do to help him, that all he could do was cry._

"_Sammy…" Dean whispered, lowering his head to meet his brother's. "Sammy, no…"_

_Sammy's eyes were open and staring up at Dean when he straightened, and he saw a single tear slip down one cheek. Sammy opened his mouth as if to speak, when a final choke escaped his lips before his bottom went lip._

"_Sammy?" Dean cried, pulling Sammy closer to him. "Sammy!"_

_Dean shook his brother gently, still worried about his injuries but that worry was now clouded by fear and grief and a desperation to wake him up. To prove that Sammy wasn't gone, that there was still life in him and he was going to survive this ordeal._

"_Sammy!" Dean cried again, shaking his brother's lifeless body harder. "Sammy, please… don't do this!!!"_

Dean's eyes flew open suddenly, his body tense and shaking, his voice hoarse and sore as his father rocked him gently back and forth. Dean could hear his voice whispering to him, but he couldn't make out the words as fear laced with the pain and anguish of what was happening. Dean's eyes were wide, his head heard and his heart ached in his chest. He wanted to cry, but all he could do was let his father hold him tight and rock him, speaking softly and soothingly into his ear…

Dean wished more than anything that he could hear the words. He'd feel better if he could hear the words…

SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

John's heart wrenched painfully in his chest again as he realised that Dean was having another nightmare. He was almost certain that it was about Sammy dying, probably in Dean's arms, and he wished he could somehow take the image of Sammy's broken body away from Dean and hide it somewhere he would never have to deal with it again.

The truth was, if Sammy survived this there would still be horrors awaiting him. John wished he could take those away too, and determined to himself that he would finish the hunt… not just hunting, but The Hunt, before Sammy was old enough to join them… before he was older enough to get hurt.

He hoped he could avoid Sammy having to fight demons and ghosts. He hoped he could kill the thing that had destroyed his family and get his boys back to a normal and safe life before they were touched too much by the hunt. John saw two problems with this, however…

One, he wasn't sure that the hunt would ever be truly over, that even after he destroyed the creature that had killed Mary there would always be something out there evil that was hurting innocent people, and he wasn't sure he'd be able to walk away from the responsibility he had taken upon himself.

And two… he wasn't sure that the boys hadn't been irreparably touched by the hunt already.

John heard a noise behind him. His nerves red raw already, he jumped slightly and turned to face the door behind him.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you… I just didn't want to wake Dean…"

John sighed with relief as he recognised his old friend. He shifted Dean onto his feet and got up himself, moving to greet Jim Murphy as he stood in the doorway. They shook hands and embraced slightly, Jim patting John's shoulder as he pulled John's head to him in offer of comfort. John appreciated the much needed gesture, but he'd never tell Jim how little it had helped him.

When they parted, John glanced back at Dean and exchanged worried looks with Jim. He had very quickly told Jim what was happening with Dean and yet neither man had come up with a solution to the poor boys nightmares, his disinterest in food or his apparent inability to speak.

Jim moved to stand beside Dean. Dean was standing at Sammy's side, staring down at him. His arms hung uselessly by his side, the one bandaged looking thicker under the jumper he wore than the other but he didn't seem to notice it. He hadn't complained about pain or itching, he hadn't even acknowledged that he had any injuries… the only thing he seemed to register was his little brother.

"Hi Dean," Jim greeted him, reaching a hand out to him and gently squeezing his shoulder. "How are you feeling?"

Dean didn't respond.

"Your Dad tells me that you're not feeling too great," Jim continued as if unfazed by the young boys silence. "You're not giving the nurses a hard time, are you?"

Still nothing.

"Well, kiddo, why don't you and me go and get something to eat, huh?" Jim suggested. "Maybe I can rustle up something really unhealthy that your dad wouldn't approve of."

Dean glanced up at the pastor but didn't comment. His only response was to move away from the man and over to his fathers side, gripping his dad's hand tightly and tugging him over to where Sammy lay still. Dean put himself into John's arms, physically wrapping his fathers arms around him as they stood together so they could both watch Sammy.

Jim sighed.

"Okay Dean, how about you stay here and watch your brother, huh?" Jim suggested, as if there was any other option. "I'll take your Dad for a coffee and bring you back something to eat… but I warn you, it might be an apple since you're not co-operating."

Dean didn't say anything, but he did grip his father tighter.

"Okay, son," John rubbed his son's back gently. "I wont go anywhere, I promise…"

Dean sighed as if he were relieved to hear that and then stepped away from his father to perch on the chair right next to Sammy. He knelt on it, and John couldn't blame him since it was a painfully uncomfortable chair and kneeling was probably the only thing it was good for.

John caught Jim's nod to follow him outside, and quietly slipped through the door behind his old friend. He saw concern in Jim's eyes, and he knew he wasn't going to like what the man had to say.

"You're telling me he hasn't spoken a word since he took the book from you?" Jim asked. John merely nodded. "And he's having nightmares?"

John nodded again.

"What happened out there, John?"

John shrugged.

"I don't know," he admitted. "They left the car, they fell down a hole, now we're here… that's about all I know from their side. Dean hasn't spoken enough to tell me anything."

Jim nodded.

"What were you…" he trailed off, pulling John further up the corridor as he saw a nurse step out of a nearby room. John glanced anxiously at the room he had left his sons in, clearly uneasy about moving any further away from them, but allowed himself to be tugged further up the corridor anyway. "What were you hunting?"

John lowered his voice to match Jim's.

"Wendigo," he answered softly. "It looks like it was after them, but I cant really be sure…"

"No indication it hurt them?"

John shook his head.

"They fell down a fifteen foot hole that an idiot hunter wannabe dug up intended for the Wendigo," John explained. "That's literally all I know."

"I figure Dean's probably dreaming about his brother in that hole, probably about him dying," Jim sighed, rubbing tired eyes. John saw how exhausted the man was and realised that he had reached the hospital a lot quicker than he should have. He must have driven with no stops to make that trip so fast, and John suddenly felt bad for dragging him into this when there really wasn't a lot he wasn't going to be able to do. "As for the talking… have you considered that maybe he's blaming himself? He couldn't control what happened to Sammy, couldn't stop it… when he found he was hurt, he couldn't do anything for it and now maybe his body is doing the only thing it can in penance. It wont eat, sleep or function until Sammy's well again."

"You mean, he's on strike?" John asked, confused.

"Kind of, though I doubt it's deliberate on his part… it could be some sort of post traumatic stress, this could be his body's way of dealing with what happened to his brother," Jim explained. "The good news is, it could go away on its own, especially if Sammy wakes up…"

"If," John spat, anger flashing dangerously in his eyes. "I wish people would stop saying that… whatever happened to positive thinking? Whatever happened to thinking good thoughts? That anything can happen as long as you believe in it? Everyone's walking around saying IF, and when they come in to check on him, they're not really looking for any kind of improvement… they're walking in to see if he's dead yet!"

Jim put a calming hand on his friends arm, but John pulled away and stalked back into the room. He knew Jim only meant well, that he was there tto help, but he just wanted to ONCE hear someone say WHEN Sammy woke up, not IF!

SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

It was another two days of virtual silence in the room before anything of interest happened. Jim had made several coffee runs, only to have to dispose of most of John's coffee a few hours later when it went cold in his hand as he stared from one son to the other. He had also brought juice back for Dean, but so far he had yet to see the boy drink any of it. John still fed Dean whenever he could find a moment of co-operation, but even that was starting to slip away.

John Winchester was looking more defeated than Jim had ever seen him… and he wasn't sure what he could do about it.

"Mr Winchester?" a voice came from the door. John's head and eyes snapped in the general direction and he was immediately on his feet as he recognised the uniformed officers standing behind the woman speaking to him. Jim and Dean were by his side immediately, as if aware that John was in a volatile mood and needing them to be nearby in case someone said something he didn't like. "I'm Miss Dogden from Child Protective Services…"

John tensed.

"And?" he snapped, his voice immediately defensive.

"I've had a report of child abuse and I'm afraid I have to remove your children from your care immediately while we investigate," she continued, unfazed by the oldest Winchester's angered voice. "Would you please step out of the room?"

John clenched his teeth.

"Please, Mr Winchester. I can have these officer's remove you, but I think it would be a lot easier for everyone concerned if you leave willingly… it would be less traumatic for your son…" Miss Dogden told him carefully.

John looked down at Dean as he clung to his father's arm. Fear was evident on his face, his eyes wide with panic at being separated from his father.

"I'm their father," John told the woman bluntly, looking back at her. "What the hell allegations are you talking about?"

"Neglect, Mr Winchester," Miss Dogden answered. "I have been informed that you left your son's in the car in the middle of the woods, while one of them was ill no less… and they ended up spending several hours at the bottom of a fifteen foot pit in a snow storm, both injured, leaving one of them on a respirator. Now, I can see the truth in most of the story, and I hope there's some explanation other than child neglect and child endangerment, but until that determination has been established and we are confident that you are not a threat to your boys, I'm afraid I'm going to have to separate them from you… I have here a court order taking custody of Dean and Samuel Winchester into Child Protective Services care, and that means that until we know you aren't abusing them, you wont be allowed to see them… Dean will stay in a home that we provide for him, and Samuel – while he's here – will have a guard on him at all times… if he wakes up, he'll also be housed in one of our facilities."

"Facilities?" John asked, grinding his teeth now.

"If there's no foster home available at that time, he'll go into one of out group homes," Miss Dogden told him. "Now, you have all the information you need, I'm asking you to please remove yourself from this room."

"You cant just walk in and take someone's children away from them," John shouted angrily, taking a step toward the woman threatening to tear apart his family. The officers immediately moved toward him, taking both his hands and bodily dragging him from the room. John wanted to fight, to scream, to yell, to lash out but he caught Dean's face and his heart just fell. He was crushed, he was in pieces, and Dean was going to pay for any display he gave. He stopped in his tracks, pulled his arms from them and dropped to his knees, opening his arms to his oldest son. Dean ran straight into him, crying softly into John's neck. "It's okay, Dean, everything will be okay… I'm always here for you, you know that right? Nobody's taking you away from me, nobody ever could… you just be strong and brave for me, alright? And whatever happens, know…"

John swallowed and pulled Dean from him so he could see into his eyes.

"Know that," John choked on barely controlled emotion. "Know that I love you with everything that I am, and I will do anything I have to to get you back… I promise. You trust me, right?"

Dean nodded.

"Good," John nodded, getting to his feet. He turned to leave when Dean grabbed his hand again.

"I love you, Dad," Dean said, his voice barely above a whisper. John's heart melted as he heard more than he could ever have hoped for from his son. He scooped him into his arms and hugged him fiercely.

"I love you, too, kiddo," John told him. He glanced over Dean's shoulder at Sammy and sighed, squeezing his eyes shut against the tears that refused to disappear. "Don't ever forget that."

Dean shook his head in a silent promise as John put him back on the floor. John turned to leave…

As John was halfway out the door, Dean's voice once again stopped him in his tracks.

"SAMMY!" Dean squealed, running toward his gasping brother as he fought against the tube in his throat and began to panic. John pushed passed everyone in the room and fell to his knees beside his son so he was eye to eye with them both.

"Oh, thank God!" he breathed, one arm around Dean and the other holding Sammy's hand. "Relax Sammy, it's okay… everything's okay…"

John pressed the call button as the officers once again grabbed him. He wanted to fight even harder now, but he knew that he couldn't. Sammy was too young, too weak to handle watching his father be dragged away from him, and in the condition he was in John had no choice but to leave quietly.

He glanced at Jim on his way out.

"Stay with Sammy," he pleaded with him. "Take care of him."

Jim nodded.

Before John could be torn from the room, he looked back at Sammy and forced a smile on his face through his tears.

"I love you, Sammy, I'll be back really soon, I promise!" John called to him. "It'll be okay!"

SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

Once John was gone and nurses started piling into the room, Jim and Dean were made to leave. They sat outside, Miss Dogden still standing nearby. She was like a constant threat hanging over their heads, and Jim knew that it wouldn't be much longer before Dean was taken away too. Jim wasn't sure even he was strong enough for that, especially since Dean wasn't going to want to leave his brother's side. That was going to be painful to watch, and extra traumatic for Dean to see.

After John had left, Dean's mouth had clamped shut again, and Jim knew that the temporary recovery from whatever was making the boy mute hadn't meant that he was going to be able to recover fully. He had been distracted from the trauma long enough for his desire to tell him father he loved him to take over. Now, however, Dean was solemn and shutdown, not speaking and not making eye contact with anyone – not even Jim.

"I really have to take him," Miss Dogden announced, her voice not showing even a hint of compassion.

"Where?" Jim asked, his arm still around the boy.

"There's a family who has a bed ready for him, they're one of our best," the woman assured him. "I promised you, he'll be well taken care of… better than…"

"Don't finish that sentence in my presence," Jim warned her. He got to his feet, anger flaring in his eyes. "You may not know it, but you're destroying one of the best, most loving families I have ever known. John Winchester is a good father, he cares for these boys more than anyone could ever understand. He would never hurt them! Never!"

"I'm sorry, but given the severity of the claims, I'm afraid we have to take this very seriously," she continued. "We'll try to investigate as quickly as we can, but these things do take time… the information we have so far is disturbing to say the least, and I'm not letting that man near those boys again until I know they're safe!"

"What if he stays with me?" Jim suggested. "He knows me, it would be less traumatic for him to stay in my care than for him to be taken away… and I can take Sammy, too, when he's better. They wouldn't have to be separated!"

"I'm sorry, but I'm afraid I cant do that," Miss Dogden. "Dean's going to have to come with me… now."

"Can't he wait until he sees if his brother is okay?" Jim pleaded, feeling the panic from Dean even as he sat silently and stared at his shoes.

"No, I'm sorry."

"You can't separate them," Jim insisted again, pleading. "It'll kill them! They're really close, you can't do this!"

"Mr…"

"Pastor Murphy," Jim supplied.

"Pastor… so you're going to be a character reference for John Winchester, I take it? Gee, he thinks ahead… already planning his case, huh?"

"No, it's not like that," Jim insisted. "He needed help, support from a family friend and someone who happens to be the families spiritual leader… it's not unusual when facing something like this to call the family clergyman, is it?"

"Only when it's in a case of abuse, then it's what I call suspicious."

"You've already made up your mind about this, haven't you?" Jim snapped angrily.

The woman scoffed.

"About whether a boy whose left on a respirator and another that could have ended up with pneumonia might be suffering abuse and neglect? Gee, let me think on that for a moment," Miss Dogden snapped. "Now, Pastor Murphy, I can have you removed by these nice officers, too, if you like… or you can stand back and let the boy come with me… which would you prefer?"

Dean got to his feet and grabbed Jim's hand to get his attention. In his eyes was a plea for so many things that Jim could barely decipher them all. A plea to let him go, to help John, to be there for Sammy as long as he could… and Jim was powerless to do any less.

Jim nodded at the young boy, amazed and terrified at the wisdom and years that he saw in his eyes as he woman grabbed him by the wrist and pulled him away.

"Remember what your dad said," Jim reminded him. "And know it goes for me too."

The last vision Jim had of Dean before he disappeared behind the elevator door was one of pain and fear… and it was a look that Jim Murphy wasn't going to forget in a while.

The nurses and the doctor finally stepped out of Sammy's room, a look of surprise covered the doctors face when he saw no one left but the pastor.

"Where's the family?" he asked.

"I'm the only one left," Jim told him, careful not to suggest that he wasn't family.

"Okay, well Sammy's off the respirator. We were going to start checking him for that tomorrow anyway, but the decision was made to take him off now since he was awake," he explained.

"Whose decision was that?" Jim asked.

"Miss Dogden from… well, she has authority since custody has been temporarily transferred to Child Protective Services," the doctor explained. "In fact, I'm afraid I wont even be allowed to let you back in… we're under strict orders not to let anyone see the boy."

"You're going to let a five year old boy be alone after seeing his family dragged away from him when he's been seriously hurt and unconscious for days?" Jim asked, disbelief and horror at the though.

The doctor sighed.

"The thought never crossed my mind," he assured him. "Look, I'm going to be going out on a limb here for you guys, okay? Here's my card, you can call me whenever you want an update on Sam, okay? And I'm prepared to get up at whatever hearing they put in place for Mr Winchester and make a statement to what I saw."

"What exactly did you see?" Jim asked, his eyes narrowed at the unexpected offer of help and support.

"A father like I've never seen before…"

Jim sighed, nodding his understanding. When it was visible, John's love and dedication to those boys could really take your breath away. It was a relief to Jim that someone other than him, someone impartial, was willing to get up and testify to that fact… whenever it was that they got that opportunity.

"So, how is Sam?" Jim asked finally, pocketing the doctors card.

"Emotionally scarred as you could imagine," the doctor told him. "He cant really talk much, but his eyes are very expressive and they're enough to break your heart on their own!"

"Oh, I know what you mean, believe me," Jim chuckled sadly.

"He's breathing on his own, though he'll be monitored extremely closely over the next twenty four hours in case of complications, but it's remarkable really… it looks like he's dodged this bullet by sheer will," he continued. "That's one strong kid… you can tell Mr Winchester that I'm confident his son's going to be okay…"

Jim sighed with relief and after a final nod from the doctor he ducked inside the room. Sammy looked tiny against the pillows, machines still beeping around him, an oxygen mask covering his pale face. His heart ached seeing him like that, and he wished he had the words to explain where John and Dean were. How would he ever explain that?

"Heya, Sammy," he greeted him, hoping the subject wouldn't come up.

Sammy's eyes flew open and locked on Jim with a flash of recognition before searching the room for his father and brother.

Jim sighed.

"They're not here, Sammy," Jim told him gently. "You're dad had to leave. Some people were very worried about you and they have to find out how you got hurt before they can let him come and see you… do you understand?"

Sammy looked away, tears filling his eyes.

"Not… Dad's… fault…" Sammy croaked painfully.

"I know that, son, but they have to make sure," Jim explained. "Dean's gone to stay with a nice family not far from here until this is all sorted out, okay?"

Sammy shook his head, devastation clear in his eyes as more tears slipped down his cheeks. Jim sighed as pain filled his chest for the youngest Winchester even as fear for the whole family threatened to overwhelm him, and he sat in the uncomfortable chair where he could hold Sammy's hand for as long as the nice doctor, Doctor Westerly, was on duty and could cover for him…

Jim Murphy had his work cut out for him this time, but he was not going to let the Winchester family go down with one hell of a blazing fight. Mentally, as he sat with Sammy, he thought about all his contacts and how he could best help John get his boys back. However long this went on for, it was going to be painful for all of them

Determination rose in his heart, however, as Jim Murphy swore silently to Sammy that he wouldn't become a victim of the system, that he and Dean would not slip through the cracks. Jim knew that John would do anything – anything! – that he had to to get them back, and Jim swore that he would do everything legal he could before he started letting John consider other alternatives.

Doctor Westerly stuck his head through the door with a slightly nod.

"They're on their way," he announced. "You gotta bail…"

The doctor glanced up the hall as he waited for Jim to say good bye to Sammy.

"I'll see you really soon, okay?" Jim assured him. "I'll try and come by tomorrow, but if you don't see me again until the hearing, remember that I'll be with your dad, and we're going to fight to get you back… you know that's what we do best, right?"

Sammy nodded, but he looked so tiny and miserable that Jim felt crushed under his gaze. He planted a kiss on Sammy's head and hurried for the door.

On his way out, he slipped the doctor his number and made him promise to call with Sammy's progress.

"And don't forget, you can call me anytime," Westerly reminded him. "Day or night…"

Jim left the hospital, jumped in his car and headed for the motel John had told him they had been staying in. He wasn't looking forward to what condition John might be in when he got there, but he was looking forward to starting the battle to end all battles…

The fight for the Winchester family had begun, and he was taking no prisoners!

**SUPERNATURAL**


	5. Chapter 5

A/N – Okay, so I lost count of how many people called me evil after my last update LOL I hope that's a compliment! I know, me and my cliffies, I'm guessing that's part of why I'm evil huh? Anyway, thanks heaps for the reviews, it was great to hear from everyone! I'm glad you're liking this story so far, and I hope that this chapter isn't the exception.

Special Note – To my wonderful husband. Happy Anniversary, Darling. I love you heaps and I look forward to many years to come! Four years has flown by so quickly that I can barely remember what life was life before the first day you smiled at me. Thank you for being so understanding about my passion – no, my OBSESSION – with, as you call them, the other men in my life. I'm so lucky that you're a SPN fan too, because otherwise you just might not quite understand. You're my world, my love, my hope and my family… you're everything to me, and I feel a dedication to you that I'll never really be able to put into words.

Disclaimer: They're not mine, nothing changed over night and I still don't get paid to do this.

Sairah: You know, you're not the only one whose called me evil in these latest updates… should I assume that that's a compliment since this IS a SPN story? Lol I'm glad you liked it, hun, and as usual thanks heaps for the review! The Winchester's are fun when they're broken coz we get to put 'em back together again, and how much do you wanna give 'em a hug right now?!?! Lol

**Chapter Five**

**Pain and Separation**

Dean stood on the doorstep behind Miss Dogden as she rang the bell. The house was boring, it had light blue shutters, a green lawn surrounded by rose beds, and a white picket fence. There was a swing set out the front and Dean figured that the neighbours kids probably hung out there as much as the ones who lived here did. He remembered living in that big beautiful house with his parents and baby Sammy, but now that his mom was gone he no longer wanted that life. He wished she were alive and they could still be living there, but she wasn't and they weren't… and if they couldn't share it with her then he didn't want that life at all.

He would rather be on the road with his dad kicking demon ass than living in a house like that now.

And here was another one! Nothing compared to his family home. Nothing could ever compare to that, and Dean knew nothing ever would. That was okay with him because it seemed wrong now. He look passed the stupid woman who had taken him from his Dad and Pastor Jim and scrunched up his nose when he saw the front door. It was blue, too, and there was a basket of pink flowers hanging from it.

This place is gonna make me puke, Dean thought bitterly.

The door swung open, revealing a matronly woman wearing a pink dress with a white apron and a huge smile that Dean knew was false the minute he saw her. She had two kids standing behind her with smiles pasted on her face and a husband walking passed the door with a newspaper in one hand and a pipe in the other.

"Is the child here, dear?" he asked, not looking up from the paper.

"Oh, he's adorable, darling, why don't you come see?" the woman suggested. She opened the door and allowed Miss Dogden and Dean to walk inside. She and the kids shuffled back, not losing the stepford grins they had pasted on their faces even for a second. Dean wondered if he could say something that would make them rethink their delight to see him, but even as words flooded his mind he lost the heart to say them.

Instead he just waited. Miss Dogden hadn't allowed him to collect any of his things, so he didn't have any clothes, anything to remind him of his dad or Sammy, and he had never felt so completely alone in his life.

"Miss Dogden, a pleasure as usual," the woman said.

"I'm sure," Miss Dogden agreed coldly. "This is Dean Winchester. Dean, this is Mary and Steven Castle."

Dean cringed hearing that this horrible woman shared his beautiful mother's name, but offered no response or greeting. He hated them both and had no intention of saying anything that could be misinterpreted as anything less.

"Welcome to our home, Dean," Mary greeted him warmly. She reached out to collect him in a hug, but Dean quickly stepped out of her reach and scowled at her angrily. The last hug he'd had was from his father, and he didn't want a hug from anyone else. He hated hugs, he just like them when it was from his dad or Sammy… and maybe Pastor Jim. "These are our children, Susie-Marie, but everyone calls her Suey. And this is Richard, but we just call him Dickie."

Dean almost laughed at that, but he thought he should try and keep his humour at the kids name in check in case it caused more problems than it was worth.

"Dickie's about your age," Mary told him. "He'll be ten next month. We're having a party with cake and everything… it'll be a hoot if you're still around then!"

Dean's eyes widened with panic at the thought that he might not be with his father for so long. He had figured this would be a really quick thing, that his father would have him home in a few days, but now he started to wonder if even John Winchester had the power to rescue him that quickly. He hadn't had experience in this sort of thing and had no idea how long it would be before the hearing that Miss Dogden had mentioned, but he starting hoping it would be really soon…

He glanced behind Mary to see the dining room table set up with flowers and candles and plates and silverware… and a huge pot roast in the middle! Oh God, he thought. There's no burgers! And there's vegetables! Ugh!

"Not very talkative is he?" Steven asked, glancing down at Dean. "You got anything to say, boy?"

Dean blinked up at him, suddenly feeling very insecure. He didn't want to be here, he wanted to be with his brother. Sammy was awake and he didn't know if he was okay or not. The last time he saw him, tears were spilling down Sammy's cheeks and he was panicking with a tube down his throat! After everything else… Dean looked back down at his feet, wishing everyone would stop looking at him, hoping there was a bed he could sleep in and just escape from the world.

"He's been through a lot tonight," Miss Dogden explained, though there was no real compassion in her voice. "I think he's probably been through a lot in his life, having met his father."

Dean wanted to yell at her, to tell her she was wrong, that she didn't know what she was talking about, but instead he kept his mouth shut. He didn't want to act up or say anything that might make them think John had done anything wrong, and this woman seemed to be able to make John Winchester sound like the things he hunted! Dean wanted to cry, but he refused to give any of them the satisfaction.

"Well, Dean," Mary spoke up again, looking sadly at him. "We were about to have some dinner. Have you eaten?"

Dean didn't answer.

"You know, it's just good manners to speak when spoken to, son," Steven told him. Still Dean didn't answer. He couldn't. He thought of words, but they wouldn't come out. He felt like he would choke if he tried to speak. "Okay, well why don't you go with Dickie? He can show you where you're staying."

"Yeah!" Dickie grinned, excitement evident in his voice. "Come on! You're bunking with me!"

Dean followed Dickie glumly, wishing that he could be back home with his Dad, fighting with Sammy about what to watch on TV while John ordered pizza for dinner. He had never been abused, never suffered… John rarely even raised his voice to him or Sammy. Dean loved him and missed him, and every time he pictured his dad's face now, there was a sad and desperate look in the man's eyes that threatened to tear Dean's heart out.

If he'd just stayed in the car like his father had told him, none of this would be happening…

SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

John heard a car pull up outside him motel room. He figured it would be Jim, but he couldn't bring himself to care and when there was a knock at the door he didn't bother to make a move to let the man in. Instead, he stayed where he was, perched on the bed the Dean slept in and stared at the bed next to it that had belonged to Sammy. He held one of Sammy's pillows in his lap, hugging it the way he wished he could hug his son, and let the tears fall down his cheeks. There was no point wiping them away, no point to anything anymore.

The door swung open, blinding John with the light of the street lights outside that cast a silhouette of Jim in the doorway. John squinted and glared, hoping the man in the doorway would catch his frustration and leave him alone… when the door didn't close, he turned away and raised the bottle of tequila to his lips and taking a long swig.

"John?" Jim's voice reached out to him, but John ignored it and turned his attention back to Sammy's bed. The door closed as Jim stepped into the room. "Are you okay?"

John heard real concern in his friends voice, but somehow it just made the pain in his chest worsen. He scoffed and raised the bottle to his lips again, swallowing more this time.

His boys were gone, what did it matter if he was okay? He was useless! He was a terrible father, the boys were probably better off without him anyway, he decided. He couldn't offer them anything they wanted, he couldn't offer them the safety and protection he wanted so desperately for them, not as long as he dragged them along on hunts with him. He was leaving his baby with a kid only four years older than him, and expecting them to be okay! He had dumped so much responsibility on Dean's shoulders that he wondered how he kept growing under the weight! And then he had left them in the car and told them not to move… without explaining to them what he was hunting and how it could try and trick them into leaving the car!

And now they were gone!

Dean was living in someone else's home, with a real family… and Sammy was alone in a cold, dark hospital with no one around him to love him and comfort him. He was only five! He needed his family with him, to keep him safe!

But he couldn't keep Sammy safe, John thought angrily. He couldn't keep either of his boys safe. Dean did more for Sammy than he did, he barely had a childhood of his own. And this whole thing proved that that stupid woman from CPS was right! What kind of father put his kids in harms way like that? He left them in a car like bait for the Wendigo, he may as well have thrown Sammy into that hole!

He took a long swig of tequila, draining the contents so he finally made it through a third of the bottle. Two thirds left and he'd have the peaceful oblivion he so desperately needed.

Jim stormed up to him, anger flashing in his eyes as he pulled the bottle from John's hands.

"So this is it? You're going to sit here and feel sorry for yourself?" Jim snapped at him, waving the bottle at John. John reached out for it and Jim carried it away from him, putting it loudly on the counter on the other side of the room. "You're boys might not be here, John, but they still need you! They need you to fight for them, to figure this out… you can't fall apart on them now!"

John sighed, his breath shaking as more tears welled in his eyes.

"It's too late," he whispered, his throat constricted painfully as he remembered the look in Dean's eyes when he left. "I failed them."

Jim sighed and John knew the anger the man felt had left him and he was left with a sadness that was a mere shadow of John's, but enough that he felt compassion and understanding for what he was going through.

"You haven't failed them, John," Jim assured him. "Not yet… but if you give up on them, then you will have failed them. If you let yourself sit here like this and feel sorry for yourself, then you will have failed them. Do you want them to grow up in foster care? Do you want them to grow up apart from each other? From you? Do you want to see them do all those things that you've always dreamed of for them? School, college, getting married? How about their first dates? The first time Sammy falls off his bike? The first time he goes to school? If you give up, you're not just failing them, you'll be giving up on yourself!"

"I can't do this, Jim," John murmured, rubbing his eyes as he gripped Sammy's pillow tighter. "I can't do this without them."

"Do what?" Jim asked, confused.

"All of it," John whispered. "They're all I have… they're all I've lived for since Mary died. If I lose them…"

"You haven't lost them, John," Jim reminded him. "We have a case here. We have plenty of people who'll testify that you're there for he boys, that you take care of them. The doctor that's been taking care of Sammy, Doctor Westerly, he said he's going to testify and that we can call him with updates on Sammy whenever we want. He said he'd try and help me get in to see him for you, too. People are on your side, here, John… we can fight this, we can!"

"I'm gonna lose them," John said again.

"Do you love your boys?" Jim asked.

John looked up at him, love and passion like fire in his eyes.

"You know I do," he answered as if Jim had asked him the most obvious question in he world. "More than anything!"

Jim nodded.

"Would you do anything for them?" he asked.

"I'd die for them in a heartbeat," John snapped, getting to his feet and storming over to the counter that held the tequila bottle. He took a swig, desperate to drown the pain and nausea that threatened to overwhelm him at the thought of going to sleep knowing his boys weren't home with him.

"Of course you'd die for them, John…" Jim responded, watching him carefully as he drained the fluid from the bottle. "But there's something harder than that… would you be able to live for them?"

John swallowed and looked over at his friend.

"Huh?"

"Dying is the easy part, John… living, even if it means being without them for a while, not seeing them, that's the hard part… can you do that for your boys?"

John thought for a moment, trying to fight through the haze of alcohol flooding his brain to figure out what Jim was talking about. He lived for them every day, he thought to himself. They're he reason I breathe every day… they're… not here. That makes it harder to breathe, but I'll still do it…

"Yes," he answered at last, understanding finally overcoming him at the realisation that his boys were alive, and so long as they were alive he would fight anything and everything to protect them.

"Then put down that damned bottle!" Jim snapped. "Get some rest, you've been up for days… tomorrow I'll make us a good breakfast and we'll start figuring out what to do next."

John put the bottle down as if it were on fire and stepped away from it.

"I don't know what to do next," John announced, sitting back onto Dean's bed.

"Don't you worry about that," Jim assured him. "All you have to do right now is rest and take care of yourself… let me worry about CPS for a while okay? I've had a little to do with them in the past, I have a few things up my sleeve."

John stared at him blankly.

"Trust me, John, okay?" Jim pleaded with him. He moved to John's side, lifting his feet onto the bed and pressing him to lay against the pillows. He tried to take the pillow he gripped in his arms, but John refused to give it up and so he decided to leave it. "You just get some sleep."

SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

Jim awoke the following morning with the bright sun shining on his face. He had slept in John's room since he figured that it would upset his friend if anyone but Sammy slept in Sammy's bed. John slept in Dean bed, hugging Sammy's pillow, and the times that Jim had come out and checked on him he had been in the same position.

Once, Jim found John sitting on the edge of the bed staring at his shoes. Jim had asked him if he was okay, if he needed anything, but John just shook his head and settled himself against the pillows again without a word.

Jim was officially worried about him.

He climbed out of bed, stretching tiredly as he stumbled out of the room. What he saw when he walked in wasn't what he had expected. What he should have seen was John still sleeping off the remainder of the alcohol in his system and the exhaustion in his body… what he found, instead, was John sitting on the edge of his bed, showered and fully dressed, with a shotgun in his hands.

As of two seconds ago when Jim heard the familiar click, John was holding a loaded shotgun.

"That's not the way to deal with CPS John, believe me," Jim told him, only half joking. "They may seem evil right now, but really they're human… honestly."

John glanced at him. He had dark circles under his eyes, a puffiness that suggested tears Jim hadn't seen the night before. He was pale and drawn, and worse than that, he was furious.

"This isn't for those bastards," John assured him, his voice gruff with barely contained emotion. "This is for the bastard creature that put my boys in hospital!"

"You're going to hunt the Wendigo? John, you're in no fit state to be hunting right now! You shouldn't even have your hands on a weapon," Jim insisted, stepping towards his friend carefully. "John, please… at least wait until breakfast is over. I'll call Bobby and he can come out and help you, okay? He's only a couple of hours away, and then you can go hunt the thing and I wont stop you… I promise."

John didn't hesitate. He grabbed up the already loaded flare gun and stalked out of the room.

"Shit," Jim hissed, grabbing the phone on the bedside table and dialling Bobby Singers number quickly. In spite of the early hour the phone on the other end was snatched up immediately and a gruff voice answered with no sound of sleep. "Bobby, it's Jim Murphy… we have a problem with John…"

SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

Bobby had hot-footed it when he'd heard Pastor Jim's voice over the phone. He'd grabbed the bag he always had packed, the shotgun that was loaded, and a flare gun from his cupboard with a box of spare flares in it. Seconds after dropping the receiver into its cradle, Bobby was in his truck and tearing up the road.

He'd cut the drive down from the hours it would normally take to one or two, and so help the bastard that dares get in his way. He never cared about getting pulled over, but today he did because it would cost him precious minutes travel time and if John Winchester was really in the bad shape Jim seemed to think he was, he didn't have the time to piss fart around with the local pigs.

John had suffered a concussion, apparently, just days before… Sammy was in hospital… John had lost custody of both the boys… and after spending a night with a tequila bottle, John was going to hunt a Wendigo? The whole thing was insane! He shouldn't be anywhere near those damn woods right now, he could take someone's head off – or his own, and Bobby had to admit that the devastation he was sure his friend was feeling would be enough to leave him angry and reckless. Bobby hoped he knew John well enough that he wouldn't do anything stupid, but he had to admit that with the amount of devotion the man had to his kids, Bobby wasn't a hundred percent sure of what he could expect to find.

Now, as he pulled in along side the Impala as it parked in the clearing Bobby assumed was the same one it had been in days before, he felt something overcome him that he couldn't put into words.

Fear.

Anxiety.

Dread.

Nothing, no word in the world could describe what he was feeling right now. He launched himself from the truck, grabbing his gear and hurrying into the woods in search of John. He didn't have time to be delicate, stealthy, he just had to find John so he wouldn't be alone while he hunted. He couldn't let him go after the Wendigo on his own, he couldn't risk him getting hurt because he was too emotionally stricken, too distracted to be able to think clearly.

"John?" Bobby called, desperation in his voice. "John! It's Bobby, man, answer me!"

No response. Bobby cursed under his breath, considering the possibility that John wouldn't answer him even if he did hear his calls. John was on stubborn son of a bitch, sometimes, and Bobby knew that when John got something in his mind there was no deterring him from it. There was no way he would be able to talk him into leaving the woods, and unless he found John himself he wouldn't be able to convince John to let him help him.

He had to move fast.

The wendigo should have been hibernating by now, Bobby knew that. He wondered, however, if it had managed to find the tasty morsels it would need to keep it going. The wendigo needed to hunt and store food, to keep it safe for it's own survival. From the information Bobby had, unless it had found something since the Winchester's had left the woods, it would need to find something to take into hibernation with it, and it would need to hurry.

Bobby tripped over a small log that he hadn't seen through his search of the thick woods. It crossed the path before him, but since the path was barely even a path he wasn't surprised it had gone unnoticed until he was on top of it. He cursed under his breath again and got to his feet, collecting his things and tucking the spare flares back into their box before shoving them back into his pack.

Spying a large stick a few feet away, he grabbed it up and set off the track to find his friend. He had remembered something Jim had said in the rush of words that had spilled out over the phone… something about traps. Bobby didn't know quite what traps to expect – other than giant gaping holes in the ground like the one Sammy Winchester had fallen down – so he used the stick like a blind man's cane and prodded every inch of ground as he moved.

"John!" he called, trying to keep his eyes ahead and around him as he searched, but also on the ground in case he came across a trap that the stick couldn't warn him about. "John! Answer me, damn it! JOHN!"

Something shifted not far from Bobby, and he immediately raised his flare gun in that direction. It could have been John or the Wendigo, he wasn't sure which to expect, but just in case it wasn't his friend he was planning on being very well prepared.

Seeing the tall, emaciated form standing nearby with clawlike hands with too-long fingers that he knew could shred him into pieces, Bobby nearly fell back in surprise. He had only ever seen one other wendigo in his life and it had been half the size of this one… and he had never heard of any other wendigo reaching these heights.

There was something unusual about this wendigo, and Bobby wasn't entirely sure he wanted to find out what it was. It seemed to be getting closer, though it barely seemed to be moving at all. How it was managing that Bobby didn't know, but he would be lying if he said it didn't give him the creeps. The creature was only ten feet from him now, and gaining on him fast.

He raised his flare gun and pulled the trigger. A sizzling pop exploded from the gun's mouth and headed straight for the creature, but somehow it seemed to miss it completely though Bobby knew he had had a clean shot. He couldn't have missed it, the damn thing had moved out of it's path.

Bobby quickly fed another flare into the gun and took aim again, stepping back from the creature as it gained on him. Ten feet had suddenly become eight, and then seven. It was close enough that Bobby could smell it's rancid breath, and yet the second flare somehow missed the creature too.

"Damn," Bobby muttered, dropping to his knees as he stuffed anoher flare into his weapon. Somehow this creature was evading the shots, no matter what he did.

Six feet.

Five.

There was no way Bobby could miss now, he knew. If he did, it would be the end of him and he would never be able to help John Winchester get out of the woods alive, and never be able to see his friend reunited with his boys.

When the third flare missed, Bobby wished he could close his eyes… but something told him he should watch whatever was going to take his life.

The wendigo reached out to him, digging it's claws into his shoulder as it lifted him to his feet and off the ground. Bobby was staring the massive creature right in the eyes now, and he wondered if that look in the things eyes was what he had always imagined hell to be like. Deep, dark, empty pits of nothingness, no love, no life, no compassion…

Time seemed to slow down.

Blood pounded in Bobby's ears.

Pain ripped through his shoulder.

He heard a strange sizzling sound, somehow familiar, and a voice calling his name but he told himself it was just the panic of dying playing tricks with him. He had always known he would die on the hunt one day, he knew that one of the creatures he hunted would get the better of him and he wouldn't make it out alive. And now a creature finally had him and it was his time, it was over…

Something happened seconds after the sizzle that Bobby hadn't been prepared for, however. The wendigo screamed in pain and clenched his shoulder tighter, tearing at flesh and muscle.

Another scream, this one sounding close and human…

He knew immediately that it was his own voice he heard ringing out through the woods, but the pain in his shoulder as the claws ripped through him made it impossible for him to stop. The creature stumbled, nearly dropping him but tightening its grip instead. It seemed to be trying to get somewhere safe, Bobby knew it hoped to reach its lair and store him as its food, but he was helpless to stop it.

Another sizzle, another pop and Bobby hit the ground.

The wendigo went up in flames beside him and seconds later everything went black…

SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

Sammy stared at the ceiling. It was a boring ceiling, not like the time he was in the hospital where Dean was because he'd fallen off his bike and hit his head. There had been cartoon pictures everywhere. He liked that room and had even asked his dad if he could decorate his own room more like that, but his dad had pointed out that they never had rooms for long so there wasn't really any point… still, at his next birthday he had gotten Winnie the Pooh pictures to put on his wall from his father, and Jessica Rabbit pictures from Dean. It had been Sammy's favourite birthday, and every time they left he'd carefully take down the pictures and put them back up again in his new room.

He didn't have his pictures in the motel room, and there weren't any in his hospital room. It didn't seem to matter anymore, though. No one he loved was there, so he just stared at the ceiling and ignored anyone who came in. Nurses trying to cheer him up, doctors telling him he was a tiger for doing so well, and a stupid woman who kept talking to him about abuse and how he had gotten hurt. Sammy refused to talk to that woman especially.

The only person he talked to was Doctor Westerly, and that was because he seemed to be on his side. Sammy didn't quite understand what was going on, just that his father wasn't allowed to see him anymore and Dean had gone to live with another family.

What had happened, Sammy wondered. How had everything gotten so bad?

Doctor Westerly stuck his head into the room with a smile on his face. He always came in like that. Sammy was sure that it was because he wanted to cheer him up, but it never really worked. The only thing that could cheer him up now was to see his dad and Dean. He wanted them to know he was okay. He wanted them to know he was safe and that he felt better.

He hurt a lot, but he felt better. He wasn't so tired as he had been last night when he'd woken up. He still had to have the oxygen mask on most of the time, but he was allowed to take it off when he had visitors… he never took it off when Miss Dogden was there, he didn't want to talk to her anyway.

It had been over a day since he'd seen his father or Dean… he wondered if they were okay, if they knew he was okay. He wondered if he would ever see them again.

Doctor Westerly stepped inside when he got no response from Sammy, the smile fading from his face slightly.

"Hey, Sam," he said in greeting. "Do you remember me?"

Sammy nodded but didn't say anything. He had left the oxygen mask on, uncertain as to whether he wanted to talk to the doctor or not. He didn't know what he wanted, he just knew he wanted his father and brother with him. He was scared and lonely, and everything was hurting. The last thing he remembered before seeing his father being dragged from the room with panic in his eyes was running through the woods with his brother.

Oh God, something had been chasing us, Sammy thought, remembering a little more about how he had gotten so badly injured. And he knew it was bad, it had to be. Everyone was treating him like he was two… didn't they know he was five years old?!? That's practically grown up! People would have told Dean if he'd been hurt, they would have known Dean was grown up and they would have told him more than 'you're going to be okay, we're just given you something to help you sleep', and Dean would have been able to handle being alone a lot better than him too.

Sammy set his jaw firmly, determined to try and be strong like his big brother. He blinked the tears away, knowing Dean would never cry. He was a big boy, and he always took care of Sammy and help Sammy when he cried, but Dean himself? Dean wouldn't lie here crying, Sammy decided. The look on Dean's face when Sammy had last seen him made him reconsider for a moment, but he brushed the thought aside. His brother was strong and brave, and Sammy needed to remember that and believe in it… it would give him the strength to be brave too.

"How do you feel?" Westerly asked.

"It hurts," Sammy admitted, certain that both his father and brother wouldn't lie about the kind of pain he was in right now. His chest felt like it had been crushed, there was an awful pain in his side and his head, neck and shoulders were aching. Something wasn't right, Sammy thought. This couldn't be right… why would Dad and Dean go away when they knew I was hurt?

"I'll get something for that, it'll be okay," Westerly assured him. "I have a surprise for you, are you ready?"

Sammy eyed him suspiciously before nodding his head. He hoped it would be his dad or Dean come to visit, but somehow he didn't think that was going to be the surprise.

He was right.

Westerly pulled out a cell phone from behind his back and handed it to Sammy. It was already open and switched on like there was someone at the other end. Sammy slipped the oxygen mask from his face and put the phone to his ear and waited, his breath caught in his chest.

"Dad?" he asked, his voice sounding small even to his ears. "Dean?"

"Hi Sammy," Pastor Jim's voice came through to him loud and clear. "How are you feeling, kid?"

"I'm okay," Sammy told him, lying. He didn't want Pastor Jim to tell his dad that he was crying and that he was in pain. If Dad can't be here, I don't wanna make him worry, Sammy thought. "How's Dad?"

Jim sighed through the phone.

"He misses you a lot," he answered. Sammy could tell the man wasn't lying. Not just because he was a pastor and they're not supposed to lie, but because of the weariness in the man's voice. "Are they treating you okay? The nurses not pushing you around too much?"

"No, it's okay," Sammy assured him. "I missed Dad."

"I know you do," Jim sighed again. "We're working on fixing everything, okay? We're going to make all of this better and get you back to your father as soon as we can, I promise…"

"Dean too?"

"Dean too."

Sammy hesitated, swallowing the lump that was in his throat and trying to blink away the tears that were in his eyes. Uncertainty ringing in his voice as he heard it crack with fear, Sammy tried to speak again.

"Can you… tell… m-my Dad," he began, trying to stop himself from shaking as the tears slipped involuntarily down his cheeks.

"Tell him what, Sammy?" Jim asked. Sammy could hear the emotion in the older man's voice and his heart started aching even more.

"Tell him I miss him? And Dean too?"

Jim chuckled.

"They know that, kiddo," Jim assured him. "But I'll tell them anyway, okay?"

Doctor Westerly had stepped out of the room and now returned with an injection to help Sammy's pain, but he also had a concerned look on his face. Sammy knew that he wasn't supposed to be on the phone, that the doctor had snuck it in to him to cheer him up, and he didn't want to get the doctor in trouble.

But he didn't want to hang up either. He wished he was hearing his dad's voice, or Dean's, but somehow even hearing Pastor Jim made him feel closer to them.

"I have to go," Sammy told him. "Don't forget to tell them."

"I wont, Sammy, I promise."

"Thank you."

"Sammy?" Jim interrupted before Sammy could hang up the phone. "Know that we're all here for you and we're fighting to get you back, okay? You're not alone."

Sammy's bottom lip began to tremble and he silently hit the button to end the call and handed the phone back to the doctor. Westerly's eyes hesitated briefly on Sammy's as he pushed the injection into the boys IV. Sammy saw a sadness there that he didn't want to see, so he turned his face away and closed his eyes, hoping it would make the doctor go away.

"Can I tell you something?" Westerly asked him, pulling a chair close to his bed and sitting down. Sammy turned back to face him hesitantly and nodded. "I was just like you once… and just like your dad too."

"What do you mean?" Sammy asked.

Westerly sighed.

"When I was a little boy, only just older than you are now, I was taken from my parents. We'd been in a bad car accident and I was finally allowed out of the hospital when I found out that my mom had actually died in the accident. I'd missed her funeral because I was very sick and wasn't allowed to leave, so they didn't tell me she was dead," Westerly explained careful. Sammy could see the sadness in the man's eyes and immediately reached a hand out to him to make him feel better and to make the story easier for him to tell. "My Dad didn't cope very well after she died. He'd been hurt badly and lost the use of his legs, and they took me away because they didn't think he could take care of me. I kept telling them I could help my dad, take care of him too, but they wouldn't listen and put me into a foster home like where your brother is now."

Sammy swallowed.

"Was it bad?" he asked softly.

Westerly shook his head.

"No, it was okay. The family was really nice and tried really hard to take care of me, but I didn't want to be there… I wanted my dad," Westerly answered. "Anyway, eventually one of my dad's neighbours set up a carer to help my dad do the things he could do and to teach him other things, and I was allowed to go home… years later my dad remarried and they had another baby. I was probably a little older than Dean by then. There were quite a few years between us, and when my dad and my brother's mom died in a house fire, I was nearly eighteen. I tried to get custody of my brother, but the state said I was too young to care for him and myself and so they took him away and put him in a home. I fought and fought and fought, but until I was almost twenty-one, no one would listen to me. Finally I got my brother back… but we'd lost so many years together that we would never get back again and I still miss him now. I see him every day, and we still share a place together, but there's just something there, a pain that we can't talk about because it hurts too much to remember how long we'd been apart for."

"Was he okay?" Sammy asked, still worried about Dean.

"Yeah, he had been placed in a good home, but it just wasn't the same," Westerly sighed, rubbing tired eyes. He was still holding Sammy's hand and he didn't seem to want to let it go, drawing strength from him to be able to continue. Sammy wondered if he reminded he doctor of his brother, if that's why he was helping them, but he didn't ask. "I'm going to help your dad anyway I can, Sam… I don't want you and your family to go through what I went through… you're going to be a family again, if it's the last thing I do."

Sammy bit his lip.

"Is it going to be years?" he asked, so softly his word barely above a whisper. He wasn't sure Westerly had heard him at first, but he felt the man gently squeeze his hand and he looked at him carefully.

"Not if I have anything to say about it," Westerly assured him. "This is a very different situation…"

"My mom died in a fire too," Sammy told him, unsure why he had. "But my dad got out with us."

"My Dad gave my brother to me and tried to get to my step mother, but it was too late and since he couldn't walk… well, he never had a chance," Westerly told him, his voice catching in his throat. "The man was a real hero… he used to be a private body guard before the car accident, and I guess the instinct to save and protect never left him."

Sammy smiled.

"He sounds like my dad," he admitted. "My dad is a hero too."

"Yeah?" Westerly asked, happy to see a smile on the boys face.

"Yup," Sammy grinned. "My brother's a hero too…"

Westerly chuckled.

"I bet he is," he agreed. "After hearing how he took care of you in that hole, I'd call him a hero…"

Westerly let go of Sammy's hand as a yawn escaped him. He felt tired, sleepy. He wondered briefly if it was because of the stuff the doctor had given him for the pain, but he didn't care. The pain was slipping away from him and so was everything else. The lights around him dimmed as his eyes closed slowly and darkness overcame him.

He drifted among dreams of his father and brother. Good dreams and bad… but they were always there with him, and he wasn't alone anymore.

**SUPERNATURAL**


	6. Chapter 6

Note to SammyGirl1963 - I REALLY hope you like this chapter, it's the longest one so far and oh boy am I tired now!!! You, of all people, will know why by the time you get through it... if you're not exhausted then I must need a hit of whatever coffee you're drinking! LoL Enjoy hun, and I hope you're liking this story so far :)

Disclaimer: They're not mine, nothing changed over night and I still don't get paid to do this.

**Chapter Six**

**It ain't over**

Bobby felt himself moving, though he knew he wasn't the one controlling it. For a brief moment he thought it must be the wendigo dragging himself off to its lair for dinner, but there was something different. The smell… the wendigo hadn't smelled like this, it had smelled rancid, like the stench of death, but this… this was… this was…

Normal. Normal, every day body odour of a hunter. A hunter who had been, well, hunting… Bobby knew that meant he must be safe, that he was going to be okay, but then he wondered if that were really true. If it were John, he knew he'd be okay, but what if it wasn't John dragging him through the woods? Hadn't Jim mentioned something about a hunter wannabe who had nearly gotten the boys killed? What if it was him? Bobby had no confidence in a man that dug a fifteen foot hole for a five year old boy to fall into, no matter what he called himself.

He grunted as he tried to move his feet along the ground, to carry some of his own weight. If it really was John, Bobby didn't want to be a burden to him with everything else he had going on… and if it was the other guy, then he couldn't trust him not to drop him in one of the man's own traps.

"It's okay, Bobby, I gotcha," the familiar voice of John Winchester assured him, holding him tighter and picking up his speed. "You've got some nasty slashes on that shoulder, I gotta get you back to Jim. I can't stop now, okay? Just try and stay with me…"

Bobby wanted to tell him he understood, that he would do as he was told, but he couldn't seem to get the words to come out. He knew that the injury to his shoulder was bad, but if they could stop the blood loss it wouldn't be life threatening. The only danger he faced now was the blood loss…

He tried to keep up with John, trying to carry himself again, but he stumbled and his legs gave out under him. He fell against John and heard the grunt from John as he wind was knocked out of him. John was struggling to hold onto him, Bobby knew that, but he wanted to help. He tried to open his eyes, but they betrayed him just like his legs had. Everything was fuzzy, blurry, and oddly dark. Not the darkness of night, but a sort of dimness that he could only attribute to the loss of blood. Which meant he'd already lost enough that he was barely able to maintain his consciousness…

He could be in trouble after all.

"Will you just quit it?" John snapped at him. "You're a heffer as it is, man, just stop trying to help me and let me help you instead!"

Bobby grunted in response, hoping his disapproval would be understood by his old friend. He wasn't to be disappointed.

"You are a heffer, old man," John told him. "You weigh a tonne and whether you like it or not, you're a dead weight right now…"

John was panting with the strain and effort of half carrying, half dragging Bobby to the clearing.

"M'sorry," Bobby mumbled.

"Don't worry about it," John puffed. "Just hold on, okay? You're going to be okay…"

Bobby didn't answer, he felt what little light there was around him starting to fade as his head began to spin. He wouldn't have been surprised if he'd started barfing pea soup, it seems only fitting since he felt like he was spinning in circles anyway.

"Some help you proved to be," John continued, sounding harsher than Bobby knew he felt. "I'm guessing Jim called you, pain in my ass that he is… mind you, you made a good target for the wendigo so I could kill the damn thing. Not that that was my plan, you know?"

Bobby huffed as John shifted him to get a better grip on him. The movement hurt, but that and the words were keeping him awake and he was grateful.

"Ever seen one of those things so big? I only hunted one other wendigo, that hunt we did a few years back remember?" John continued the conversation. "But that was about half the size of this one… damn, if I'd known it was that big I would have called you a lot sooner! Besides, I didn't even know they could get that big!"

Bobby grunted his agreement, wishing he could say something more. What he really wanted to say was '_What the hell kind of mother is that thing anyway?_', but he was almost certain the grunt got his point across when John continued.

"I know what you mean, it had some kind of weird power, right?" John asked, as they reached the clearing. Bobby was sure they had reached the clearing anyway, because all he could see the ground since he lacked the strength to hold his head up and the ground wasn't as rugged here as it was further into the woods. "The thing seemed to move without really moving! How does that work?"

Bobby sighed, hearing the familiar sound of John's car door opening and feeling John shift him inside. He heard hurried footsteps rush around to the other side and couldn't stop the relief from hitting him when he felt the car bounce slightly as John's weight was added to the seat.

The engine roared to life.

"Hardly seems fair, does it?" John asked. Bobby tried to raise his head, but could only manage to get his eyes up to about John's shoulder. "They're supernatural creatures and we're mere mortals… but how often do we really lose?"

Bobby swallowed hard.

"Too often," he murmured.

SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

Jim heard the Impala stop outside the motel room as relief washed over him. The hunt was over, at last. Either they had managed to kill the creature or Bobby had somehow talked John into leaving it alone until they were better able to deal with it. Let it starve or let it hibernate, either way leave it alone until next time…

Something was wrong, Jim realise as he waited to hear the second engine stop by the first. There was no second engine, however, only a second car door slamming shut a long moment after the first. He rushed to the door know that that could mean only one thing.

Someone was hurt!

Jim pulled the door open to see a filthy John Winchester dragging a barely conscious Bobby Singer – who also happened to be covered in blood that Jim couldn't delude himself into thinking was anyone's but his own – up the steps to he door. He stood aside as John dragged the injured man into the room and rushed to collect every towel and piece of linen they had in the room.

Laying down a couple of towels to prevent the blood from seeping into the mattress and causing the motel owners from becoming suspicious, Jim stood aside and indicated John and set Bobby down. John, immediately understanding Jim's concern about raising anymore alarms, sat behind Bobby and held him upright, supporting his back against his chest.

"What happened?" Jim asked as he pulled Bobby's shirt away and balled it up before aiming it through the bathroom door to the tiles.

"Wendigo's dead," John answered simply.

"Oh," Jim muttered, examining Bobby's shoulder through the blood. He grabbed one of the towels and pressed it against the injury. "Let me guess, Bobby played decoy and lost?"

"Well, it wasn't an intentional plan," John assured the man. "The wendigo found him before he found me… I nearly didn't get there on time."

"It got part of his neck too," Jim observed as the bleeding slowed. "He's lucky, the thing damn nearly ripped his throat out."

John held Bobby tighter as Jim cleaned the wound. Bobby tensed and let out an almost inhuman growl of pain as he arched his back. John gripped him harder until, suddenly, the life seemed to go out of the man and he lay unconscious against John's chest.

Jim exchanged a relieved look at John, knowing that this process would be a lot easier now that Bobby was unconscious. He was still worried, however, since it was starting to look like some of he most complicated work Jim had ever had to do before.

Still, no internal bleeding so that was something… he drew the line at internal bleeding. He had only learned how to treat serious wounds as a way to help the hunters in his life. He rarely got the opportunity to hunt himself, though he kept fit and trained himself in boxing and hand to hand combat, as well as learning how to use a myriad of weapons and storing an arsenal at his home. He tried to keep a little of everything that hunters might need in case anyone came to him for help. He hoped to have a whatever they needed on hand, and if he didn't have it he would know how to get it.

All his knowledge came from books and on-the-sly training. He hadn't been to med school, but he had been trained by one of the best doctors he had ever known, a fellow hunter himself, and he knew he could deal with most injuries.

Just not internal bleeding. He wasn't set up to deal with actual surgery.

He wished he was treating this wound at his own home, however, where morphine was at least on hand so he could keep Bobby comfortable. As it was, unconscious was good but morphine was better.

"John, hold onto him tight okay?" Jim instructed. "And press this right here…"

John grabbed the towel as ordered and held it tight against Bobby's shoulder and neck. Jim stepped into the bathroom and grabbed a big black medical bag. It stored everything he needed for work in the field, but Jim couldn't remember if there was any morphine in it.

He hoped so, because if Bobby woke up – and that was definitely a possibility – this was going to get complicated. Some of the wounds were pretty deep and he was going to be working for a few hours.

Sighing in relief, Jim pulled out a vile and a syringe. Measuring out the quantity he would need to keep Bobby comfortable for a couple of hours, he quickly injected the man before grabbing out the sutures. John avoided his gaze and Jim wondered if he was feeling guilty. After all, it was his stubbornness and his determination to get the beast that had led Bobby to race into the woods with no time to prepare. If he had stayed at the motel and waited for Bobby like Jim had suggested, they would have had time to formulate a plan.

Jim sighed. He didn't exactly blame John, he just wished the man would stop and think for a minute before the people who cared about him, who would drop anything to help him and his family, kept getting hurt.

John was looking around the room, his eyes falling on the desk near Sammy's bed.

"You've been busy," John announced, no emotion in his voice. Jim recognised he exhaustion that was there, though, but he chose to ignore it. One weary hunter at a time.

"Yeah, I've been going over some notes," Jim told him. "I wrote down everything I know about what happened, everything that happened at the hospital when CPS turned up, what happened after you left and what Miss Dogden had to say… everything I could think of that was even remotely useful – or completely irrelevant."

"She said something?" John asked, his eyes on Jim now. "What did she say?"

"She's already made up her mind that you're a dead-beat dad, that you don't care about your boys and that you've neglected them to the point of abuse," Jim answered glumly, his voice low as he worked on one of the more serious wounds in Bobby's shoulder. "She has already condemned you. From my experience, she didn't have to take them away from you right away, and she certainly didn't have to ban you from Sammy's room… she's jumped ahead in procedure."

"You think we can use it?" John asked.

Jim nodded.

"Definitely, but it doesn't mean it'll win our case for us. It might just make her testimony a little weaker, but a judge could still agree with her," Jim pointed out. "The fact that she's left a five year old seriously injured in the hospital alone will also weaken her argument."

John seemed to visibly shrink at the mention of his youngest son alone in the hospital and Jim wished he could take the words away.

"Did she say this in front of the boys?" he asked.

"Just Dean," Jim answered. "He seemed okay, though. He went with her quietly."

"Where did she take him?"

"I don't know, some family took him in from what I understand," Jim sighed, moving onto another wound. "I've also been making a few calls, getting some more character references for you. They're probably going to dig through a whole lot of history, though, so I'm trying to comb through where you've been since Mary died and trying to find a spin that will sound less crazy than 'I'm a demon hunter' and more like a loving father."

John opened his mouth to argue and then clamped it shut. Jim saw the self doubt returning to his friends eyes.

"John, you are a good father to those boys. The life you lead doesn't really lend itself to raising kids, but you've made it work – for the most part. The boys haven't got a lot of medical history aside from typical scrapes kids get themselves into, so I don't think they can prove a history of abuse or neglect. The fact that Sammy's not in school yet, though…"

"We just moved here," John argued. "I had intended on enrolling him, but we got here and the lock on the door was broken so I had to take them on the hunt with me and then everything went… pear shaped. But Sammy was going to be in school days ago."

"Why did you move here?" Jim asked.

"To hunt the wendigo…"

"I know that, John, but you cant tell a judge that you came here to hunt a scary ass demon creature that eats people every twenty or so years, she wont buy that and you'll wind up in a mental hospital with no chance of getting your kids back," Jim pointed out. "Think again… why did you move here?"

"For more stability… now that both the boys are in school I was hoping to find somewhere we could settle in for a while, where they wont have to move around so much," John sighed, knowing the 'normal' response but wondering how long he could really pull that off for. "I really do wish they could have a normal life, Jim. I just feel like…"

Jim hesitated as he moved to another wound. He saw a look cross John's face and he wondered what it meant. He had never seen that look before and found it somewhat disconcerting.

Somewhere beneath the look was a truth John had been living with for the passed five years…

SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

John felt like he was swimming in a pool of defeat, of misery, a self-made hell that he would simply continue to sink into until there was nothing left of him. He could barely breathe, barely think, barely see. He knew he was holding Bobby still so Jim could work on him, but his eyes barely registered any of what he was seeing in the room now.

He felt Jim's hand rest on his shoulder a moment, drawing him back to reality like a shock wave that threatened to push him over the edge, but he clung on for dear life, knowing that everything they talked about right now was going to help him get his boys back.

"You were going to tell me something?" Jim prompted gently, turning his attention back to Bobby's shoulder as if he knew that it would help John focus and keep going.

John swallowed. He had never voiced this particular feeling, this particular fear before. He hadn't told anyone. He just kept going, kept moving, kept hunting and nobody had ever questioned him on it. After what had happened to Mary, who could really blame him for wanting to hunt? He knew all hunters had a story to tell, how they got started, what get them going. They all carried with them a pain that no normal person would understand. Some hunters were so consumed with pain and hate and anger and fear that they were just plain dangerous, but some hunters used it to fuel their passion and it made them stronger.

John liked to think he was one of the hunters that used his own pain to ignite his passion for the hunt, but that he hadn't lost his vision. He could still see straight and understand right and wrong, that hunting hadn't become the answer to everything, but sometimes he wondered. Had he become dangerous? Is that why his kids had been taken from him? Could it be possible that they really were better off without him?

The hunting world was no place for kids, and John had never come across any other hunters who had children with them, but he saw no other option. He knew he had to hunt, and he knew he had to be with his boys… he did the best that he could under the circumstances, but John couldn't help but wonder if he had been doing the right thing for the boys or the right thing for him.

Could this be their chance for a better life? The normal life they should have had?

John shook his head, pushing the thoughts from his mind. He couldn't picture facing a single day without Dean and Sammy by his side… today was painful, but if he had to face a day without them and without the hope of getting them back, he would die. He would simply cease to exist. It wasn't an option for him to hear the words from a judge that would take his boys from him permanently… and John knew that a stay in foster care could fast become a permanent stay.

No, he needed his boys and they needed him. They were a family and they belonged together, end of story.

SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

Dean kept his head on the pillow, refusing to get out of bed. The annoying kid known as Dickie hadn't been kidding when he'd told Dean he'd be bunking with him since they were actually sleeping in bunk beds. Dean hated those beds, they were stupid and they were only ever fun when he and Sammy shared them. Dean always took the top bunk because he was older and he turn Sammy's bed into a fort for him to make it really cool and dark, somewhere they could hide during the day. And at night, while Sammy drifted off to sleep in his fort with a smile on his face, Dean would suddenly hang upside down and peak inside, making faces at his little brotherr until he dissolved into a fit of giggles.

And when Sammy had a bad dream, Dean would climb off his bed and into the fort, holding his brother tight and assuring him that nothing could get through the magical doors to get them as long as Dean was with him. Nothing would ever hurt him…

Dean wasn't really sure what the nightmares were, but Sammy had them on occasion. Now, as he curled up in the bottom bunk he shuddered at the thought of Sammy all alone in the hospital with no one to take care of him, to make him feel better, to protect him from whatever scary monsters invaded his dreams.

Dean had started having his own bad dreams the last few days, especially since he'd seen his dad dragged away and since he'd been taken to the Castle Family Home. Dickie had given him the choice off bunks, but Dean had silently slid into the bottom bunk. It somehow made him think of Sammy, to feel closer to him, and although he felt sad knowing they were separate he could at least hug a pillow to his chest and pretend that he was holding his brother.

Every morning he woke up in that house that pillow was wet with tears.

Four days had passed since Dean had first set foot into the house, and he hadn't spoken to anyone who lived there. He made eye contact when he had to, but refused to speak. He pushed the food around his plate at dinner time, ignored Steven when he said that if Dean would speak then Mary would cook him something he liked to eat, but food didn't bother Dean. He wasn't hungry anyway, he was too worried about is father and brother. They needed him, they needed to be together.

And, for the most part, Dean spent the days in bed where no one could reach him through the fort. He had tried to build himself a fort, but Steven wouldn't let him and tore it down. So Dean settled for hiding under the covers instead, and gripping the pillow that was a poor substitute for his little brother.

"Come on Dean, that's enough," Steven announced from the doorway. "You've spent too much time in here, it's time to get up and get out of this room. I wont have you hiding in here all day while you live under this roof, I wont have to separating yourself from the rest of the family… you'll come out and behave like part of the family and that's all there is to it. Understand me?"

Dean wanted to yell at him and tell him that he wouldn't behave like part of his family because they weren't family. He wanted to tell him that he had a family and they were real and didn't wear fake smiles whenever someone came to visit, that they didn't eat meatloaf three times a week and that they loved him more than he could ever understand! He wanted to scream at Steven and tell him that he would never be half the man – half the father – that John Winchester was and that he felt sorry for Dickie and Suey because they would never know the kind of love that John had for his kids!

He wanted to tell him what a family was supposed to be like!

But Dean couldn't get the words out. Every time he tried to speak his throat felt tight, constricted, and he soon gave up trying to find his voice. He wasn't worried about it, he didn't really want to speak that badly anyway. He had no one to talk to, not until he saw his father and brother anyway, so what did it matter?

Dean climbed out of bed, reluctantly leaving the pillow behind and suddenly feeling even more alone than ever before. He walked slowly passed Steven and into the dining room. Steven nudged him toward the living room and when Dean walked in he was disturbed to see a family game off charades in full swing.

"Oh Dean, great!" Mary grinned happily. "You can be on our team, can't he Suey?"

Suey grinned and nodded emphatically.

"We're pretty sure that Daddy and Dickie cheat," Suey announced, her gaze travelling up to Dean with obvious trust in him that he would never cheat, that he was honest and wouldn't dare betray her. Dean sat reluctantly on the couch beside Suey and fought the urge to sigh in frustration. What was it with kids who insisted on looking up to him like some kind of hero? It was one thing for Sammy to do that, but this girl didn't even know him!

"Come on, Dean, why don't you have a turn?" Mary suggested. Dean shook his head and crossed his arms stubbornly. "It's fun, really! It can be whatever you want!"

Dean pursed his lips, shaking his head again.

Mary glanced at her husband.

"Dean, this is what this family does on a Saturday afternoon, and as part of the family you are going to participate," Steven told him, his voice severe and threatening. Dean didn't care what the man said, he was not part of the family. He didn't need them, he didn't need them to save him. He already had his own family and they were perfectly fine. "Now get up on that mat and have a turn!"

Dean glared at him. He realised that there was one thing that his father had given to both him and Sammy that no one could take away from them.

They all had the Winchester Stubborn Streak, and no one could break through that.

"Right," Steven said. "If you're going to sulk and refuse to talk, then you're just going to have learn some manners… if you refuse to speak, if you wont ask for what you want or tell us what you need, you're going to sit right there until you find your voice again… that means exactly what I say it means, Dean… you wont be going to bed until you tell me that you're tired and need to sleep. Understand?"

Dean turned away from Steven, not caring about the punishment. It was a stupid punishment anyway, and it suited him just fine. He hadn't slept much anyway, and kept have nightmares. The only thing that he liked about his bed was that it reminded him of his brother, and he felt sad about losing that… but now he had something else to hold onto.

He was stubborn, and he'd be able to tell Sammy how long he'd stayed on that couch before Steven had snapped and given in. He was certain that he would outlast the older man.

Eating didn't bother him either, since the food in this house was bland and not to Dean's taste. He ate veggies when they came in his burgers, but generally tried to avoid them. His father managed to sneak them into his diet often enough and they had turned it into a sort of game… his father always won, but Dean didn't care. On day he'd be old enough to eat whatever he wanted to eat, and besides now he used the game to make Sammy eat is vegetables.

It was a race… who could eat their vegetables the quickest? John always came first, of course, and Dean was still a few minutes behind him, followed by Sammy a few minutes later. These days, however, Dean was starting to gain on his father and so he helped Sammy try and get quicker too.

Dean made a decision. He could sit here for as long as he had to before Steven gave in and sent him to bed because he could easily entertain himself with memories of his family. No one could take them away from him, no matter what.

SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

Sammy was sitting up in bed pushing the food around on his plate in frustration. He hated this place, hated this room and he wasn't hungry! Why did they always have to shove food at him?

Sammy was still on pain medication but it was slowly lessening and he was able to sit up for long periods of the day. He was allowed to eat normal food again, though it was all overcooked, soft and mushy. Westerly had told him that he'd had some injuries to his stomach and bowel and therefore had to be very careful what he ate because his stomach wasn't strong enough to digest anything too major. Mostly he ate jello or custard, and occasionally there was soup. Sometimes for lunch they would bring him mashed potato and someone had drawn a smiley face into it with ketchup. Everyone knew him now, they all walked in with smiles on their faces, but he didn't care. He still on talked to Doctor Westerly if he could help it, giving every one else simple yes or no answers and ignoring other questions that involved any other information.

Miss Dogden visited most days now that he was sitting up and looking more normal. Sammy wondered if she just hadn't had the guts to face him since she had doomed him to a lonely life in the hospital with no family, no visitors, no one who loved him. He hoped she felt guilty, he hoped that was why she hadn't visited much until now. It didn't matter, he still refused to talk to her.

She was due to visit any time now, Sammy knew as he stared at the barely recognisable green mush the kitchen staff tried to pass off as peas. The door opened and Doctor Westerly grinned at him. Sammy offered him a sad smile.

"I hate this stuff," he told the doctor. Westerly had begun visitng more and more often. Some days, when Sammy was really sad, it was the only thing that kept him going and kept the tears from his eyes. He would pass messages from him to Pastor Jim, though they never risked direct contact with Sammy's father in case they got caught.

"I know, Sam," Doctor Westerly sighed. "Do you want me to try and get you something else? I noticed a custard tart down there that you might be able to manage if you're really careful. You have to eat it really slowly, take little bites and chew it up lots and lots before you swallow it, though, okay? Do you think you can manage that?"

Sammy nodded, pushing the plate away.

"Okay, but you're going to have to eat your vegetables tomorrow or they wont release you," Westerly told him. "They need to know you can eat before you can leave."

"You say 'they' like you're no one of them," Sammy pointed out. "But you are, aren't you?"

Westerly smiled.

"That's our little secret, okay?" he winked. "I don't want them to know that I know that, okay? I'm only one of them when I can help someone like you, otherwise I try and buck the system. I don't want them to think I willingly play along, I want them to think I hate having to do it… I only do it when it suits me, and if they knew that… well, I wouldn't be able to help you."

"That makes no sense," Sammy sighed.

"I know," Westerly agreed. "But one day, when you're old and cynical like me, you'll learn that nothing in the world makes much sense… ask your Dad when you see him next, I bet he'll tell you!"

Sammy grinned and nodded, promising he would ask his father as soon as he got the chance. The idea of getting out of the hospital both excited and frightened him. The thought of being away from this room, the memory of how he had gotten there, the thought that it was one more step in this horrible stage in his life that was over and meant that he was one more step closer to being with his family… that was exciting and made things a little bearable. But the thought of seeing out the remainder of his time separated from his family but also from Westerly, the only friend he had right now, the only one who understood, the only one he could rely on to help him, his only connection to his father… that thought was truly terrifying.

If he left the hospital, he really would be alone.

Ten minutes later, however, Sammy wasn't alone and wished he were. He was still working on eating his custard tart, the offensive food from earlier had been taken away, but Miss Dogden were back. Every time she asked Sammy a question he didn't like, he would take a tiny mouthful of tart and chew it a hundred times before he swallowed it.

It became a game.

"Did your father leave you alone often?"

_Chew, chew, chew._

"Did he ever hit you?"

_Chew, chew, chew._

"Was there ever a time when there wasn't enough food to eat?"

_Chew, swallow, bite._

"Did your father ever do or say anything that you deemed inappropriate?"

Chew, chew, chew. 

"Did he ever hurt you or your brother in any way?"

_Chew, chew, chew._

"You know, Samuel, we're not going to get anywhere if you refuse to answer my questions," she told him, anger making her voice rise a little. "You're not helping your father any. I know you probably think you are, but you're really not…"

_Chew, chew, chew._

"He's in a lot of trouble here, Samuel," Miss Dogden announced. "If I can make my case, it's possible that charges will be laid against your father and he could be facing jail time…"

Chew, chew, GULP! 

Miss Dogden smiled, not missing the gasp of air that nearly made Sammy choke on his well-mushed mouthful.

"You just think about that before I come see you tomorrow," she told him. She leaned in closer and smiled, her breath smelling sour. "I know men like your daddy, Samuel, and it's my job to make sure they're punished!"

The minute Miss Dogden left, Sammy reached for the buzzer to call for the nurse. He hit the button over and over and over again until someone came running. She had a concerned look on her face when she saw Sammy barely able to breathe as panic threatened to overwhelm him.

"I'll get Doctor Westerly," she announced hurriedly, rushing away.

Westerly came mere seconds later.

"Sam, what's wrong?" he asked, rubbing Sammy's back even as he reached for the oxygen mask and placed it over his face. "I need you to calm down, Sam, okay? I need you to try and breathe… I know it's scary, you're having a panic attack, just try and relax, okay? Just breathe…"

Sammy tried to do as he was told, but his head was starting to spin.

"Breathe, Sammy," Westerly insisted, his voice growing louder and more urgent. He sat Sammy up more and slid in behind him so Sammy was lying against his chest. He started taking deep breaths. "Breathe with me, Sam… come on, breathe like me."

Sammy tried, concentrating hard on Westerly's breathing as his chest rose and fell. He could feel it starting to work and he started to calm down, but he felt weak and shaky.

A nurse appeared at the door.

"Sedative please," Westerly announced, his voice low and gentle so he didn't startle Sammy anymore. "It's okay, Sam, just getting something to help you feel better, okay? Cant have you getting all worked up and undoing all our hard work, can we?"

Sammy was breathing easier.

"You feeling better?" Westerly asked. Sammy nodded and Westerly removed the oxygen mask and slid out from behind him. He helped his patient lie back against the pillows, smiling when he saw Sammy starting to relax. "That's good, you're getting your colour back now… can you tell me what happened?"

Sammy nodded but stopped when he felt his chest tighten again. Westerly took his hand, this time offering the strength Sammy had given him before.

"It's okay, Sammy, just talk to me," Westerly told him.

He reminded Sammy of Dean for a moment, after Sammy woke from a nightmare and Dean told him he could tell him about the bad dream and then whatever scary monster it was couldn't get it anymore. Sammy wanted to smile at the memory, but his fear for his father overwhelmed him.

"That woman," he said, his voice bitter and angry.

"Miss Dogden?" Westerly asked, though he knew the answer.

Sammy nodded.

"She said she's going to put my dad in jail!" Sammy announced, fear lacing his voice and his eyes growing wide at the thought. "She said she knew he was bad and that she was going to make sure he'd go away!"

Westerly shook his head.

"I'll take care of it, Sammy," he promised him. "You lay back and get some rest, I'm going to give you something to help you sleep okay? It's just a mild sedative, but you'll feel much better when you wake up okay?"

Sammy nodded, trusting the doctor even though he wanted to stay awake. He didn't like sleeping, he had nightmares and whenever he woke up Dean wasn't there to make them better…

Soon, however, darkness took hold of him as he drifted away…

SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

As Bobby slept, silence had reigned over the room. John seemed lost in thought as Jim returned to his work, and as much as Jim wished he could press him into whatever confession he had been about to make, he knew that he couldn't. There was no pushing John Winchester, whatever he was going to do or say he had to get there in his own time or he'd shutdown.

Jim's phone rang on the desk before him, startling him away from his research and notes and back into the harsh reality they were being forced to deal with.

"Doctor Westerly?" Jim asked when he heard the man's voice. He saw John jump to his feet when he heard the doctors name and could feel him hovering behind him. "What's wrong?"

Jim was silent as he listened to Westerly explain what Sammy had told him Miss Dogden had said, and Jim quickly made some notes. He was keeping meticulous records but he knew that he had limited power over this particular situation. He wasn't supposed to be in contact with the doctor, and if the courts found out they were breaking the rules the consequences for the Winchester family could be dire. He would have to delegate this particular situation to Westerly to handle and trust him to keep an eye on the situation.

"Okay, I understand," Jim told him. He paused, thinking for a moment before jotting down some more notes and passing the paper for John to read while he finished the conversation with the doctor that was, so far, their best ally. "This is what I need you to do. Right now, I'm limited in what I can do until the hearing… anything concerning Sammy – or even Dean – with this woman, I'm not supposed to know about, okay? I still want you to call me whenever you can and if anything else happens, but right now you have to call CPS and report this woman to them, okay? She's abusing her power, she's taking advantage of a sick little boy whose scared and alone in a hospital separated from his family. I need for you to tell them as much as you can, okay? They might want to send someone else out to talk to Sammy… he's what? Sedated?"

John stopped pacing, stopped reading, and glanced worriedly up at Jim.

"What's wrong with Sammy?" John asked, his voice urgent and rising quickly. "What's wrong with my son?"

"John, calm down… he had a panic attack, okay? They had to give him a mild sedative to keep him calm and prevent any damage to his stitches, but he's fine…" Jim assured him. He turned back to the doctor over the phone again. "Tell them how she left him like that, too. Remind them he's five years old, okay? There needs to be an investigation into this woman and her interaction with the boys, and I can't be involved in that… yeah, okay… take care of him for us, okay? Make sure he knows we're still fighting for him… thanks West, I appreciate it… call me after, yeah. And take notes, you're going to have to testify to this stuff at the hearing!"

Jim ended the call and turned around expecting John to have resumed his pacing, but found him standing before him, his eyes narrow and his face red with anger.

"What did that bitch do to my son?" he growled. Jim noticed that John had dropped the paper on the ground, obviously not having read very much of it so he didn't know what was going on.

Jim sighed.

"She told Sammy that she was going to try and get you put in jail for child abuse," Jim announced grimly. "She had him so scared that by the time she left he could barely breathe. Westerly had him on oxygen, Sammy told him what happened and he sedated him to keep him calm, but he's okay now… John, I need you to stay calm, okay?"

John took a deep breath, but it didn't seem to be enough to dull his anger.

"How the hell am I supposed to stay calm?" John snapped, kicking the nearby chair so hard it skidded across the room. "He's my boy and he's in there all alone where she can upset him like that after major surgery, and I cant be there for him! He needs me!"

"I know he does, and we're going to get him back, I promise," Jim told him. "Right now, though, getting yourself worked up isn't going to help Sammy, okay? I need you to stay calm…"

SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

Westerly hung up the phone and sighed. The conversation with CPS had taken him over and hour. He had been bounced from one department to another until he finally got through to someone who could help him, and then he explained what was going on and they said that there was nothing they could do. He had grown more than a little angry and soon found himself ranting.

"Don't make me go to my boss and get the hospital to take a restraining order out on you people," Westerly warned. "It's not the first time we've gotten involved in a situation like this, and I'm more than prepared to do it again. This woman is out on a witch hunt, she's taking unsubstantiated claims and running with it, determined to ruin this family. I have a five year old patient – FIVE YEARS OLD – who came in here with serious internal injuries, he's had major surgery, been on a ventilator and is only now strong enough to eat his own food! He's not even allowed to go to the toilet on his own yet!"

"Doctor…"

"No," Westerly interrupted. "This woman has taken his father and brother away from him and left him alone and afraid in the ICU of all places, and then she comes in here and attacks the kids father until he cries, threatening to put him in jail! And this time she left him in a panic attack that could have caused serious consequences if we hadn't been able to calm him down! He could have opened up some stitches, or worse! I could have had to operate again if he'd gotten much worse, but we sedated him and he's resting… but if that woman comes in here and upset my patient again, I will be forced to take out a restraining order against her, and I'll be naming each and every one of you in it!"

"Doctor, I…"

"I want an investigation done on this woman, and I want it to start immediately!" Westerly insisted again, feeling his heart race as anger threatened to explode. He was normally so evenly tempered, but this was hitting too close to home. Sam Winchester was important to him, and Westerly was determined to protect him and get him reunited with his family. "She's a menace, she's threatening the welfare of MY patient! What do you intend to do about it?"

There was a sigh at the other end.

"Are you finished, Doctor?" the woman asked.

"Only if you plan on telling me you're going to look into the matter – and I don't mean shuffling papers across your desk, I mean come out here and investigate, get involve in her investigation of the Winchester family, make sure she's doing her job and not just bullying her way to a result then yes, I'm finished… if not, then I have plenty more to say on the matter."

Westerly waited.

His breath was caught in his throat.

"I will be personally looking into the matter, Doctor Westerly," the woman said. "Thank you for bringing this to our attention. A note will be made in the Winchester file as well, and a report will be included for the hearing… in the meantime, when will be a suitable time for me to come out and see Samuel Winchester? And I'll need to speak to the staff – and yourself – who came into contact with Janet Dogden."

"Sam will be asleep for at least another hour," Westerly answered, feeling himself relax. "As for the rest of us, you can come out now if you like. I can round them up as you need and you'll have our full co-operation… as long as you assure me that Sam Winchester will not be hurt like that again."

"I assure you, Doctor Westerly, our intention here is to protect your patient," she told him. "I'll be as gentle as I can, okay?"

Westerly hesitated, suddenly feeling very tired.

"Okay," he agreed.

"My name is Melanie Rose and I'll be arriving in ten minutes," she announced. "I'll see you then."

"Thank you, Miss Rose…"

Now as he sat staring at the phone, knowing that he had to call Jim Murphy back and fill him in, he felt tired and shaken. This was bringing back a lot of memories for him, none of them good, and he wondered how he would keep it together to get through the investigation now in process.

He glanced through the door of Sammy's room and saw him sleeping peacefully. He nodded, determination returning and replacing the weariness as he realised he had the best motivation to pull through…

Sam Winchester was depending on him…

SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

John waited impatiently as Jim answered his phone again. He seemed to be quiet for a long time and John couldn't help but feel impatient. He was growing anxious, wondering if the was all about the CPS or if there was any news about Sammy. Jim was quiet as he scribble more notes in his notebook, his writing careful and concise so he wouldn't miss anything. The process was meticulous on Jim's part, painful for John.

Bobby stirred and pulled himself up, favouring his left shoulder as he swung his legs over the edge of the bed. He was bare chested and covered in gauze and bandages down most of his left side and John saw him take notice of his state of dress. Bobby seemed relieved when he realised he still wore his jeans, and John knew he would normally make a comment about being even more relieved not to have to take them off him. But his jeans were mostly untouched by Bobby's blood and so they had been able to leave them there…

…and as funny as the man's face should have been, John found no humour in it at all.

"Thanks West," Jim said, sounding weary and tired. John could related, having resumed his pacing since Jim had gotten off the phone to the doctor earlier, waiting impatiently for over an hour to hear back from him. He hadn't expected a phone call to take so damn long!

"How's Sammy?" John asked immediately as Jim turned to face him. Bobby, too, was perched at attention on the edge of the bed, eager to hear what was going on though he was several hours behind.

"He's fine, he's resting," Jim assured him. "A woman named Melanie Rose is investigating the situation and putting in a report for the hearing and a note in the file. She's heading out to talk to the staff at the hospital and, when Sammy wakes up, she'll talk to him again too."

"I don't want any of them talking to my son!" John snapped, anger flaring in his eyes.

"John, they have to talk to him, you know that," Jim pointed out. "It's the only way they can find out what happened. They need to get a statement from Sam."

John fumed.

"It's not right, Jim," he raged. "He's only five, he shouldn't have to be going through this! He's all alone!"

Jim sighed.

"I know, John," he assured him. "I know, but he's a strong kid… he'll get through it, I promise you…"

"So, does this mean this could all be over soon?" Bobby asked from his spot on the bed.

Jim glanced at him.

"Well, no," he admitted.

"What?" John gasped. "So, no matter what this woman finds out during her little investigation, I could still lose my boys?"

"There's still been a report of possible neglect, John, and no matter what happens here they still have to investigate," Jim explained. "The most we can hope for is that Dogden is discredited enough that she cant make her case… or that she's taken off the case entirely and someone whose more impartial gets to carry on."

"And the result could still be the same," John muttered. "I might still lose them."

Jim nodded grimly.

"You could," he admitted. "But we're going to work on that, okay? I'm not letting this go without a fight and I need you to be right there the whole time, okay?"

John nodded, but a second later determination was replaced with a deep sadness.

"Ever since Mary died, I've kept moving… kept them moving… like if I could just keep going fast enough, kill enough evil things and keep the boys moving, that maybe…" John sighed and shook his head, dropping to the foot of the bed Bobby still occupied. "Maybe I could keep it from reaching them, from touching them."

"Keep what from touching them?" Jim asked carefully.

"Everything," John admitted, looking up, resting his elbows on his knees and suddenly look very old and tired. "Grief, pain, fear… evil… death… loss… anything that could possibly hurt them."

"John, you can't outrun the world," Bobby told him. "Believe me, I've tried."

"I know I cant," John admitted. "Maybe this is a sign, maybe I should sit up and pay attention… maybe they need a more stable life than I can give them."

"You're not talking about giving up are you? Letting these bastards win? Letting them take your boys away?" Bobby asked, an unexpected anguish lacing his voice.

"I honestly think that if I lose them I would die," John told them. "No, I'm not giving up… I'm just wondering if now is time for a change… time to find something more for them."

"Maybe that's not a bad idea, John," Jim agreed. "You cant hunt forever."

"I'm not talking about giving up hunting," John interrupted quickly. "I'm talking about finding somewhere to hunt where I wouldn't have to drag them out of school every few months… there's always something to hunt, always something evil to kill, always someone to protect… it'll never be over… and neither is this damn fight."

"What are you going to do?" Jim asked, careful not to anger the man.

"I don't know," John admitted. "Follow whatever game plan you've got lined up I guess. Trust you to help me get my boys back, do whatever you tell me to do…"

"Did you hear that, Bobby?" Jim asked, a teasing note in his voice. "Tell me you heard that?"

"Which part?" Bobby asked with the same tone at the edge of his voice. "The part where Johnny Boy declared war on the CPS, or the part where he promised to take orders?"

John let a smile hint at his lips.

"What I'm saying is," he tried again, appreciating more than ever before having his friends by his side. "Is that this ain't over til my boys are home…"

**SUPERNATURAL**

**A/N – Oh, boy am I exhausted after writing this chapter!!! Phew! Hope you liked it!**


	7. Chapter 7

A/N - The alerts were down for a while yesterday, so I didn't expect to get any emails in my inbox yesterday because they weren't up and running when I went to sleep. So I tried to sleep a little longer, figuring I was still really tired anyway, but… when I couldn't stand it anymore I bounced out of bed – like I always do after posting a chapter – and jumped right onto my laptop… low and behold, there were over 30 emails waiting for them. Mostly they were reviews, and some alerts and stuff, and I had a great start to my day reading what everyone thought about my latest updates! I'm so glad you all liked them, and thank you one and all for taking the time to review! It makes writing so much easier and so much more fun when I know there are people out there who love the show as much as I do who are invested in what happens to the boys… and who get that same pleasure from reading my story. Thanks heaps for telling me!

And another big thankyou to SammyGirl1963 for asking me to write a weechester fic. Great plot bunny, and seven chapters later I'm just as obsessed with this story as any other I've written – possibly more! AND I've taken to reading weechester fics, too! Anyway, thanks hun, and I really hope this is what you're after.

Disclaimer: They're not mine, nothing changed over night and I still don't get paid to do this.

**Chapter Seven**

**Fair Go**

Doctor Westerly paced outside Sam Winchester's door, waiting impatiently for Miss Rose to finish talking to him. He wanted more than anything to be tin there with him, to make sure that this woman didn't turn out to be as much of a witch as that haggard Miss Dogden had been, but she had insisted that he stay outside and wait. Her argument was that children were more honest without adults present, but Westerly didn't believe that was the case with Sam. He was such a good kid, painfully honest, and he didn't seem to know what it was to lie or embellish the truth. He didn't even really understand how much his statement could help his father's case.

Still, he hadn't told Sam that, either. He'd just made sure he was aware that it was important that he told the truth about Miss Dogden so that Miss Rose could make sure the was doing her job properly and everyone was given a fair go – including his father. Sam had nodded grimly, assuring him he understood and right in that moment the boy had looked years older and wiser than the five he had been alive.

Westerly wondered what the boys life was like outside this hospital. Was he a happy kid? Did he run and play? Did he have a bike? Did he and his brother fight? All the normal things that a kid like Sam should be allowed to experience, Westerly briefly wondered how many of them had happened. Now that Sam was going through something no kid should have to go through, Westerly worried about everything else in his life. If he hadn't seen, first hand, the love and devotion John Winchester had for both his boys, he might have been swayed by the man's argument that the boys were being neglected. He just couldn't imagine John Winchester doing that. He had barely left his boys alone the night they had been admitted. It had visibly torn him apart to leave Sam's room but the need to check on Dean was so great that there was no other choice. Still, Westerly could see it was hard for him.

Harder than Westerly found going home at the end of his shift to be, and that was getting harder by the day. He had taken to working double shifts, just so he could be there in case Sam needed something. He had left strict instructions with each shift of nurses that if anything happened to Sam they were to page him immediately, no matter the time of day or night. It hadn't happened yet, and he hoped it never would, but he could still see the small amount of comfort it gave the boy when he walked into the room.

He hoped Sam was sensing some of that comfort now as Westerly paced outside the room. He kept peering inside, but he couldn't see anything or hear anything that would suggest what kind of conversation was being had or whether it was going well. He just hoped Sam had seen him through the window and knew he wasn't alone, that Westerly was there for him and wasn't leaving until the whole process was over.

When the door finally opened, he peeked inside to see Sam had curled over onto his side as much as he could given his injuries and was now lying with his back to the door so he couldn't see him. The tiny shake of the boys shoulders as he cried silently didn't go unnoticed by the doctor, however, and he turned angry eyes onto the CPS woman standing before him.

"What did you say to him?" he demanded, barely keeping his anger in check.

"We went over what Miss Dogden had said and, well the boy is a little upset," Miss Rose sighed, glancing through the door at the tiny form of Sam Winchester. "He told me everything, and I have to admit that it's certainly a concern. It doesn't sound like Miss Dogden has gone into this particular case with open eyes, and I intend on putting that into my report."

"Will the boys bee able to go back to their father now, considering the slanted investigation?" Westerly asked. He saw Miss Rose hesitate and felt his anger grow more. "You've got to be kidding me! She took them away before she even tried to find out the truth! She didn't even care that Sam was sick and in the ICU all alone… she had already made up her mind!"

"I know," Miss Rose agreed sadly. "That's all very unfortunate, but now that they have been separated from their father I'm afraid there's nothing more I can do about that until the investigation has been completed. An allegation of serious child neglect has still been made and we have to take that very seriously, especially given the type of injuries Sam has suffered as a result."

Westerly shook his head.

"This isn't right," he whispered, looking at Sam. He could see the boys tears had grown stronger and could hear the boy starting to gasp for breath as his body fought to function under the strain of his emotions. "You know this isn't right, don't you…"

Miss Rose nodded.

"Sometimes, Doctor Westerly, I really hate my job," she admitted. "But I have to admit that every now and then, when a case like this comes up, I hope that I can make a difference and make sure that it's properly investigated."

Westerly hesitated, realising that there had been more behind the woman's explanation than she said. Was she telling him that she believed John Winchester? Was she saying that she knew he was a good father? Was she saying that the boys should be given back to him? Could it be that the hearing might just be a formality?

"Wait, are you…?"

"I can't say anything more, doctor," Miss Rose interrupted him, offering a soft smile. "The decision isn't mine to make. I will be putting in my report on Miss Dogden, performing an investigation of my own – which is standard procedure when there's suggestion of a break in procedure and that report will be put in along with Miss Dogden's, too. But she is still the investigating member, and she will still be our representative at the hearing… and at the end of the day, it will come down to the judge what happens."

"So, no matter what, the boys might still be taken away from their father?" Westerly asked for clarification, glancing back at Sam as a particularly painful gasp escaped the boy.

"Possibly," she admitted.

Westerly nodded and hurried inside the room, thankful to finally have the information he needed so he could check on Sam properly and make sure he was okay. The boy refused to face him when he called his name, refused to answer him and finally Westerly knew that he was left with one option.

"Sam, come on kid, you have to lie on your back, or you'll hurt yourself," Westerly told him, not entirely lying. The boy was still recovering and he needed to be careful not to put any additional strain on his body. Already he had been through too much since his surgery, and all Westerly was left with was a desperation to lessen what was left and lessen the effects of what had happened.

Sam finally rolled over, sniffing and angrily wiping his tears away. He mumbled an apology to Westerly, but avoided eye contact.

"What are you sorry for, Sam?" Westerly asked, prepared to get the oxygen again if he had to.

"Crying," Sam muttered, shame filling his eyes. "I shouldn't be crying… I just…"

"Sam, it's okay to cry, you know," Westerly assured him. "Believe me, with everything you have going on, I'd be more worried if you didn't cry."

Sam glanced at him.

"Really?" he asked, sounding smaller than Westerly had ever heard him in the short time he had known him.

"Definitely," Westerly smiled. "Do you want to talk about it?"

Sam shook his head and looked away.

"You know, I'm a pretty good listener," Westerly pointed out, smiling. "And I'm pretty good at keeping secrets too…"

Sam sniffed.

"I miss my brother," he whimpered quietly. "And I miss my Dad…"

The raw emotion and pain in the young boys eyes broke Westerly's heart and as fresh tears rolled down young cheeks he pulled him closer to try and offer some comfort. He knew that Sam was suffering, and he wished he could fix it all, but for now there was so little he could do other than be there. It wasn't his job, and he was risking disciplinary action for being too involved and refusing to leave after his shift, but Westerly didn't care.

Now, when his shift was over, he downgraded himself from doctor to visitor… but if something happened he was still the first on the scene.

"It's okay, Sam," he assured the little boy. "I know they miss you too…"

SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

A knock at the door startled Jim from his thoughts and he immediately dropped his pen. He had received a call several hours ago from Doctor Westerly asking for permission to visit them and Jim had hurriedly accepted while John and Bobby caught up on their rest. John was exhausted and Bobby was still recovering from his injuries and the effects of more morphine, but Jim expected him to be feeling much better the next time he woke up.

Jim rushed to the door as another knock rang out and hoped he'd made it before the sound awoke John, but he was out of luck as he heard the gruff voice ask if pizza had been ordered.

"No, John," Jim told him, pulling the door open. He smiled at the doctor and stepped aside to allow him entrance to the motel room. "Doctor Westerly has come to see us."

John was immediately on his feet, pulling the man further into the room and pushing him into the chair that Jim had been occupying.

"What's wrong?" he asked as he moved, panic filling his eyes. "Is it my son? Is it Sammy? Is he okay?"

Westerly smiled his assurance and Jim realised that it was more genuine than the smile you would often see from someone in the medical profession.

"Sam is fine," he promised. "He's a bit upset, he misses you a lot – and Dean – but he's recovering really well and is even starting to eat some solid food… a lot sooner than I had expected, to be honest, but he's pulling through nicely."

John sighed in relief and Jim saw the man's shoulders hunch slightly.

"Thank God," John whispered. "Is he… is he okay, though, other than the injuries?"

Westerly sighed, rubbing tired eyes.

"Since his panic attack he's had some oxygen and sedation, he was a lot better when he woke up," Westerly explained, unable to regain the normally clinical tone that he used when going over the list of treatments a patient was going through since his own emotions were red raw. "He had an interview with Miss Rose today about what happened with Miss Dogden and he was pretty upset after that. A lot of tears…"

"What did she do to him?" John asked, his voice on the edge of snapping dangerously.

"Nothing, she was fine from what Sam told me," Westerly assured him.

"Sam wouldn't want you to worry," John argued. "He might not tell you, he might be worried you'd tell me… what if she said something to him? What if she threatened him like the other woman did?"

"John, no," Westerly told him. "Sam would tell me, I know he would. He knows that it would be important. He doesn't fully understand what's going on, but he knows that if he wants to come home to be with you then he has to tell the truth about everything, and he has. I know he has."

"He doesn't understand what's going on?" Jim asked carefully.

"No," Westerly sighed again. "He knows that there's an investigation into John's parenting and the child neglect, he knows that Dean is staying with another family and that he wont be allowed to go home yet either, but other than that he doesn't understand why any of this is happening. He can't see how anyone could say anything bad about his dad…" Westerly glanced back at John. "You're a bit of a hero to the kid, you know."

John smiled, swallowing hard. Tears were evident in his eyes as he thought of his youngest son.

"He's a good kid," he announced proudly. "Innocent, you know? I just want to protect that, more than anything…"

"Yeah, well so far as I can see you've done a good job," Westerly said. "It's that innocence that's making this hard for him to understand, though… but it's also what makes him cry at night because it's another night away from you and Dean when he doesn't think he should be away from you…"

"He shouldn't be," John argued defensively.

"I totally agree," Westerly announced. "Now, I've gotta fill you guys in on what Miss Rose told me…"

SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

Dean felt his eyes growing heavy as he heard the sound of the grandfather clock strike eleven. He was tired, exhausted if he was being honest about it, and he was running out of energy to be able to think about stories to make himself feel better. He had hundreds of stories about Sammy and about his father, but he was losing the battle to stay awake and his mind wasn't functioning on it's normal level to be able to recall each of them.

Instead, he moved to something simpler. He pictured his little brother as if he was sitting right in front of him, his big, dimpled grin that never failed to make Dean smile, even when he didn't want it to. Sammy's eyes always shone, glittered, grew impossibly bright when he smiled and in spite of everything he was the happiest kid Dean had ever known.

And his laugh, Sammy's laugh, full of joy and innocence that, even at nine years old Dean knew he had lost some of it himself. But Sammy, somehow, managed to cling to that innocence, that belief that the world was mostly good and beautiful… Dean wished he saw things the way Sammy did, but when the kid laughed he could see colour exploding from his little brother's dimples and for that time his world really was bright and beautiful again…

Just like it had been whenever his mother laughed…

"What are you smiling at?" Steven asked Dean, his voice gruff. "You have nothing to say? You have no reason to smile…"

Dean rolled his eyes. He wished he had voice enough to explain to the man that it wasn't personal, that he just couldn't bring himself to speak, he couldn't find the words and his voice seemed to be choking him… Steven didn't understand. He didn't strike Dean as the type of man who ever would, and he wondered how this man had managed to convince Miss Dogden that his family was one of the best to house kids in when it wasn't safe for them to go home.

This whole thing was a mess, Dean thought to himself. The image of his little brother, scared and alone in his hospital bed, flashed before his eyes and tears slipped down his cheeks. Steven sighed loudly, his frustration clear. Dean didn't care. He doubted this man had ever loved anyone as much as Dean loved Sammy…

Dean doubted Steven loved anyone more than himself! He came across as selfish and arrogant and bad tempered… Dean wasn't entirely sure what arrogant meant, but he had heard his father use it and somehow it seemed to be an adequate description of the man sitting across from him.

"Don't you think he's had enough, Darling?" Mary asked softly from the doorway to the living room. She and the kids had slipped silently off to bed hours ago and Dean somehow knew that this wasn't the first time this had happened. It was like Mary, Suey and Dickie knew better than to argue or speak up on behalf of the kids they took in. They had just smiled sadly at Dean and left the room…

"Has he told me he's had enough?" Steven snapped angrily. Mary dared a glance at Dean. "We've had dozens of kids through here, Mar, and each of them had behavioural problems just like this one… and every one of them left here with proper manners and a smile on their face. Are you questioning my methods?"

Dean wondered how many of the dozens of kids Steven mentioned had broken under his 'help'. None of them were Winchester's though, and he was going to be able to hold out. He was going to walk out of this house as Dean Winchester, son of John Winchester, big brother to Sammy Winchester, and there was no arguments about it… this man wasn't going to break him.

A new wave of determination came over him and he found the strength to sit up straighter in his seat.

"No, Steven, I would never do that," she assured him. "It's just that this boy has already been through so much, I'm not sure he's being quiet to punish us."

Steven scoffed.

"Whatever, Mary," Steven laughed at her.

"I'm serious, Steven," Mary told him, her voice gaining strength. "After the trauma of what he's been through, of that father of his, it could be a physical reaction… maybe it's not that he doesn't want to speak, maybe he just cant…"

Dean wanted to look at Mary, to plead silently with her to know that she was right, but he didn't dare take his eyes off Steven. The man seemed wound tight, and Dean had been raised to be prepared for anything.

"Like that post traumatic stress thingy?" Steven asked, eyeing Dean thoughtfully. He shook his head and laughed. "I don't buy it, Mar. You're just too soft for your own good."

Mary sighed.

"Maybe you're just not soft enough," she whispered to her husband and approached the sofa where Dean sat. "If you really think this is the right thing to do, okay… but know that I'm going to sit right here with him. If this is trauma, he shouldn't have to be put through anything more, and he really shouldn't have to face it alone."

"Fine," Steven spat angrily. "It will do you some good, too. But the same rules apply to you, Mar. You'll sit there in silence with him until he speaks… until he says he needs to pee, you'll have to tie a knot in it too."

Dean swallowed hard, uncomfortable at the situation already and feeling bad for Mary having to go through it too… unbelievably grateful to her, but bad for her just the same.

What kind of man would punish his wife like this?

SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

John paced the length of the motel room, trying to keep his steps quiet as Bobby slept on Dean's bed. Jim had finally crashed in the room that John had slept in before all this had happened, and he figured he was far enough away from any racket that John made his sleep wouldn't be disturbed. Bobby, on the other hand, he was still hurt, he needed to rest and John couldn't risk waking him.

It was four in the morning. The local shop would open in less than an hour and John was waiting impatiently for it as his plan formulated in his mind. He had to work out a way to get his boys back, he had to figure out a way to make this whole mess better and to prove that he was able to take care of his sons. He needed the boys back, and there was no way he could lose them now.

He wished he could just break in and get them, but he knew that idea was a mistake from the beginning. Sammy was in no condition to travel anywhere, and Dean was in a family home… he couldn't risk taking them and ending up with a full scale manhunt to contend with that would definitely land him in jail. Sammy was already worried about that enough, he didn't have to add to his son's concerns.

So there was only one option left to him, and he had to admit it had been a long time since he had considered it. He had to fight this battle by legal means – no breaking and entering, no fists, no guns, just challenging the system to prove himself.

John knew that Westerly's news was supposed to make him feel better, that someone in CPS was on his side and didn't think he was a bad father, but he couldn't rest everything on that one report. He couldn't risk everything he had, everything he fought for, on one woman's word. He had to figure this out on his own. Westerly was watching out for Sammy – for now – and John had to hope that Dean was safe, too. He wished he had an insider watching his oldest son, someone who could tell him how Dean was, but there wasn't much he could do about it right now. He had to hope that Miss Dogden had done something right by his boys and at least found somewhere safe for Dean to reside until all this was over. He had heard horror stories about foster care, and he hoped that neither of his boys had to live through any of them.

Maybe he should put in a call to Westerly and ask him to talk to Miss Rose about Dean, to see if he could get some information about how he was doing. Was he talking yet? Was he being treated okay? Was he safe?

John sighed and glanced at his watch. Half and hour had passed while his thoughts had raced, and he figured he'd been patient enough. He left the motel room and jumped in the car, gunning the engine and racing out of the motel parking lot with a squeal of tyres.

He'd been patient enough.

SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

Bobby sat up from his position stretched out on the bed, the tug on his stitches in his shoulder and neck a reminder of where he was and what was happening through the haze of the morphine. He knew that the drugs were still in his system, that he hadn't slept off their effects, but something had woken him up and he somehow knew it was important.

A door behind him opened and Bobby turned instinctively to see who it was, but gasped in pain as the pressure in his neck warned him against the movement.

"Am I gonna look like Frankenstein or what?" he asked, trying to hide his pain in humour. He didn't want anymore morphine, he had to be alert to help John get his boys back. John needed everyone he could get to be there for him right now, the boys did… and Bobby knew, more than anything, that what John didn't need was injured friends to worry about.

"Tiny stitches, I swear," Jim assured him, looking like he hadn't slept in days. "A fairy couldn't have done better."

Bobby sighed as he felt his body grow weary. He knew he had lost a fair bit of blood and counted himself lucky that he hadn't been taken to the hospital. He would recover, he knew, but his body had to work hard to do that.

Something was nagging at him.

"Where's John?" Jim asked, stepping further into the room.

"I don't know," Bobby admitted, fighting as his eyes pleaded with him to close. "I think I heard a car, that must have been what woke me up."

Jim approached the window and pulled the curtain back.

"The Impala's gone," Jim announced, his voice tight with poorly hidden concern.

"What the hell has he done?" Bobby asked. He didn't remember much, and he had gotten hurt before hearing the details, but he knew Dean and Sammy had been taken into foster care and that spelled one thing: d-i-s-a-s-t-e-r. "Oh God, Jim, you don't think…"

"John wouldn't be that stupid, would he?" Jim asked, not really voicing the comment as a question. "I mean, that's not going to help him get his boys back… he wouldn't…"

"He was saying earlier that he would do whatever it took, wasn't he?"

"Oh God…"

"What do we do?" Bobby asked. Jim glanced at him and Bobby knew right away what the answer was… until John got back, IF he came back, there was nothing they could do.

Waiting was not something Bobby had ever been good at, and this time he was certain it was going to kill him…

SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

There was a knock at the door the following morning, making Dean jump. He was relieved to see that he wasn't the only one who had jumped, however, as he saw Steven and Mary both sit up straighter at the sound. Steven glanced at his wife, glared at Dean, and finally got to his feet. He headed over to the front door and opened it.

"Miss Rose?" he asked, his voice sounding immediately strained. "We haven't seen you in a long time, what can I do for you?"

"I apologise for the early hour, Mr Castle," Miss Rose greeted him politely, though something her tone told Dean that she was someone of authority. "I need to speak to Dean Winchester, is he up yet?"

Steven glanced back at the living room where Dean was sitting, his gaze one of concern. Dean didn't kid himself for a second, knowing the man wasn't worried about him but he wasn't sure why he was worried at all. He reminded him of Sammy when he'd been caught sneaking an extra bite of chocolate cake on his birthday last year. The memory flashed through Dean's mind, Sammy with his mouth wide as he shoved a tiny piece of his own cake into his mouth, his eyes wide with fear as Dean and their father caught him, the mumbled apology through chocolate crumbs. Dean nearly laughed out loud all over again at the thought, but something about the seriousness in Steven's eyes told him that there was more going on here than he realised.

Was this woman from CPS as well?

"Actually…" Steven sounded like he was about to lie when something caught him off guard.

"Mr Castle, I should caution you against finishing that sentence," Miss Rose told him. "I'm well aware of your results, and I find your methods personally distasteful. If I thought I could prove it, I'd have you taken out of our system immediately… step away from the door, Mr Castle. Now."

Steven stepped away from the door and allowed the woman to enter his home. Dean almost chuckled, seeing the tiny figure of a woman, five foot two if she was an inch tall… thin, blonde, beautiful in a stern and angry kind of a way, but nothing compared to Steven's height and bulk. Yet somehow, she managed to frighten the man into compliance.

Her mouth dropped when she saw Dean on the sofa, sitting up straight. Dean knew he probably looked terrible, his eyes were probably dark and baggy and since his head had started pounding hours before he was certain that he looked less than healthy. His back was cramping painfully and he'd wanted to cry more than once, but Steven had gotten so angry last time he'd shed any tears that Dean swallowed his pain and discomfort with monumental effort and figured it would be better to grit his teeth through the cramps and spasms.

"Have you slept, Dean?" Miss Rose asked him. Dean didn't respond, even to shake his head, instead he shot a look at the man standing behind her. He didn't want to say anything that might make things worse for him here, and he figured if he told the woman the truth he probably would find his life a lot more miserable. Miss Rose sighed and turned to Steven. "Is this another one of your ideas to buck him up? Why?"

"He refused to speak," Steven told him. "He wouldn't participate in family things and spent most of his time in his bed."

"Mr Castle, are you aware of what this boy has been through lately?"

Steven nodded.

"Miss Dogden told us about his father, the abuse, the neglect… just like all the others who come through here."

"No, Mr Castle, not like all the others," Miss Rose disagreed. "He's not long out of hospital with a head injury and a badly cut arm, did you even pay enough attention to see that? His brother nearly died, too… he fell fifteen feet and had to have major surgery. He had just woken up when Dean was taken away from him… there enough trauma in the passed few days for a grown man to wind up mute, and this boy is nine years old!"

Steven glanced at Dean, a sheepish look on his face. Dean blinked in response, uncertain what he was supposed to be feeling.

"Being taken away from your family is enough for any nine year old to suffer the effects of trauma, and this boy has had more than his share! How long has he been awake for?"

Steven didn't answer.

"Fine," Miss Rose snapped. She glanced at Dean but didn't expect a response he noticed gratefully. Instead she turned to Mary. "Mrs Castle? I know it's not typical for you to speak against your husband, but in this case it might just be warranted… how long has this child been up for?"

Mary sighed and shrugged.

"I'm not exactly sure… this all started last night, but I don't think he really slept properly before that," Mary answered. "But this has been happening since last night."

Miss Rose made a noise that Dean thought sounded like an angry growl, like a mother bear warning predators away from her cubs.

"I suggest, Mr Castle, that you leave me alone with Dean for a while… I need to talk to him, and then I'll decide what to do about you," Miss Rose told him without another glance. Dean noticed her gaze was on him again, and he thought he should feel uncomfortable but instead he found himself feeling safer than he had in days. The room emptied quickly and Miss Rose took the position that Mary had vacated. "First of all, I want you to know that Sam is doing well. He's a bit upset and he misses you, but he's recovering nicely. He tells me he even got to eat a custard tart!"

Dean smiled. Sammy liked custard tarts.

"He wanted me to tell you about that," Miss Rose smiled gently. "I guess he knew you'd understand."

Dean nodded.

"Can you tell me what's been happening here?"

Dean looked down at his hands. He wanted to explain, wanted to tell this woman what was going on but he wasn't sure he could get the words out. Every time he tried to speak he remembered the fear in his brother's eyes and nearly choked. Now he felt an additional wave of nausea at thinking of Sammy upset and afraid.

"It might help your brother, Dean," Miss Rose told him. "I'm looking into Miss Dogden's performance of this case and… well, she upset Sam the other day and I think there might be something I can do to help your father, but I need you to talk to me."

Dean hesitated. Could this woman really help them?

"I miss my Dad," Dean announced, surprising himself at what his first words were.

"I know you do," Miss Rose told him, a genuine sadness in her voice. "But that's why I'm here. I want to find out what's really been going on… I'm doing my own investigation, Dean, and that's going to be reported at the hearing as well, okay?"

Dean nodded.

"When will the hearing be?" he asked.

"A soon as I can book a time, but I'm afraid that they're pretty busy so it could be another month," Miss Rose answered. Dean felt his face fall. "I'll see what I can do, okay?"

"Is Sammy okay?" he asked at last.

"The doctor says he's recovering surprisingly well, actually."

"That's coz he's a Winchester," Dean smiled proudly. "We're pretty tough."

Miss Rose smiled.

"I can see that," she said. "Now, can you tell me what's been going on here?"

SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

John arrived back at the motel over an hour later, an odd purpose in his stride that seemed to surprise Bobby and Jim. They both stared at him as he walked in and dropped his newspaper onto Sammy's bed. Nobody spoke for a long time, and John realised they were waiting for him to say something. He wasn't sure what they wanted to hear, but he knew what he was going to say.

"I wasn't going to kidnap my kids," he assured them, smiling. He felt hopeful, more hopeful than he had since he'd been told he wasn't allowed to see his boys and it felt good. "Seriously, I really wasn't."

"Okay," Jim and Bobby said together.

"We were worried, John," Jim admitted, sounding somewhat sheepish. "With everything going on, we weren't sure what to think… I couldn't have blamed you for trying to see them, though."

John shrugged.

"I did," he admitted. He saw concern flash over the pastor's face and rushed to explain so he wouldn't be worried. "I mean I tried to see Sammy… I don't know where Dean is, after all. But Sammy's still at the hospital, so I went to see him."

"John, you're not supposed to be there," Bobby reminded him.

"I know that," John sighed, frustrated that they weren't understanding. "I just wanted to be closer to him and I wanted him to know I was closer to him… I sat outside the hospital in the parking lot for a while and stared at the window… I don't know if it was his window, but it felt better anyway."

Jim sighed.

"You really are sentimental, aren't you," Jim chuckled.

"I used to be," John admitted. "I used to buy Mary flowers every Sunday and tell her I loved her and that she was a wonderful mother to my boys… I bought the boys little surprise gifts just because they were good kids. I don't think Sammy would remember that, but I hope Dean would. I used to sit in Sammy's room when he was first born and just stare at him while he slept… and Dean I sat there for the first two months watching him… sometimes I still watch them sleep, and it's kind of peaceful. Knowing that right then nothing was touching them or hurting them, they were asleep and safe."

John glanced up, realising he had said a lot more than he had intended to say. He hadn't even realised what was going through his mind when he started speaking, and by the looks of his friends faces they were just as surprised.

It didn't matter, John thought. They could think whatever they wanted about him. He loved those boys and he was determined to get them back.

And now he had a plan…

**SUPERNATURAL**


	8. Chapter 8

Disclaimer: They're not mine, nothing changed over night and I still don't get paid to do this.

**Chapter Eight**

**Taken**

A week later, Sammy was sitting up in bed. He'd just made another trip to the toilet all by himself, relieved that he was finally allowed to move around again. He had always told Dean he wished he could spend a day in bed watching cartoons, but sitting in an empty hospital room without the cartoons wasn't the same thing… especially without Dean there.

Now, however, he figured something was going on because Doctor Westerly seemed to be avoiding him. He was sad because Doctor Westerly was the only friend he had now that he wasn't allowed to see his dad or Dean, and he was always lonely – until Doctor Westerly visited.

Maybe I've done something wrong, Sammy thought, pressing his lips together against the tears that threatened to spill down his face. He knew tears were allowed, Doctor Westerly had told him that before. He wondered what he had done to make his friend so mad at him, but he didn't want to risk angering him more by calling for him. He'd always said he could call any time he wanted, but he didn't want to do that now he was so mad. He didn't want to upset his friend again, he had don't so much for him already!

The door opened slightly and Sammy glanced up, hoping to see his friend standing there. The door wasn't open all the way, and there was a glimpse of a white coat showing through the gap, but that didn't mean that it was Doctor Westerly come to visit him. It could be one of the other doctors.

Sammy wanted to get his attention some how, to get him to come in and talk to him, but he knew it would make him more mad, so he bit his lip and waited.

Finally the door opened all the way and Doctor Westerly stood before him, looking pale.

"I'm sorry," Sammy murmured, tears coming to his eyes the minute he saw the man's grim expression. He knew whatever he had done was really bad now, and he felt terrible at causing the man who was helping him any kind of pain. "I didn't mean to, I'm sorry!"

A surprised look came over Doctor Westerly's face as Sammy began to cry.

"Sam, what's wrong?" he gasped, rushing to the bedside.

"I didn't mean to do anything wrong!" Sammy cried, reaching for his friend.

"Oh, Sam, you didn't do anything wrong," Westerly assured him. "What makes you think you did something wrong?"

"You're mad at me!" Sammy sniffed, pulling his arms back when Westerly didn't reach out to comfort him. "I made you hate me!"

Doctor Westerly sighed and shook his head, closing his eyes a moment and taking a deep breath.

"Sam, no," he insisted, opening his eyes. "You could never do anything to make me hate, that's not even possible! Why would you think that?"

"You weren't here," Sammy whispered. "Nobody's ever here, Dad's not here and Dean's not here… they've forgotten me! I know they have! But you've been here, you've always been here, except for today, today you weren't because you hate me too!"

Westerly dropped into the chair he kept by Sammy's bedside and pulled the little boy into his lap, holding him close. Off all the machines now except the IV, Sammy was more mobile and Westerly immediately took advantage of that fact to offer him more comfort than he'd been able to before. The little boy trembled in his arms, shaking with tears as he let out all the feelings of fear, grief and abandonment that he'd been feeling over the passed three weeks in one big sob.

"Sam," Westerly tried again, his voice breaking under the strain of what he had to say. "I don't hate you, I never could… and your dad and Dean certainly don't hate you, and they definitely haven't forgotten you. They think about you all the time, and Pastor Jim is always calling to talk to you… I should have told you, but you've been sleeping and doing so well… I'm sorry Sammy, I should have told you."

Sammy sat back and looked up at his friend. He wasn't used to adults talking to him like this, open and honest and apologising for stuff. Adults don't make mistakes, do they?

"I was going to tell you something else this morning, but I got some news that got in my way," he explained gently. Sammy could see that the extra news was upsetting Doctor Westerly and that it somehow involved him, but he swallowed and waited for his friend to tell him in his own time. "I saw your Dad last night."

"You did?" Sammy asked, his voice in awe as if the man had said he'd met the real life Santa Clause and was going to let Sammy ride in his sleigh on Christmas Eve.

"Yup," Westerly told him, smiling brightly through the sadness in his eyes. "He was sitting out side in his car, looking up at that window right there."

Sammy glanced at the window as if it would magically show him his father.

"He told me he comes here almost every night so he could be closer to you," Westerly explained. "Do you really think that he's forgotten about you?"

Sammy grinned and shook his head, still staring at the window.

"He really came? He was really here?"

Westerly nodded.

"Here just for you," he answered happily. "He misses you, and he told you to give you a message…"

Sammy looked back, growing serious as he prepared to hear the message from his father. He was certain it would be 'hang tough' or something along those lines, something to tell him to be strong and that was what Winchester's did.

"What was it?" he asked, his voice soft and serious.

"He said to tell you that he loves you and misses you very much," Westerly told him, his voice sounding like he was reciting the message word for word. "And he said to tell you that he has a big surprise in store for when you boys get back home… now, he wouldn't tell me what it was, but he said you were going to be really excited and really happy."

Sammy grinned.

"Wow," he breathed, jumping off his friends lap and steering the IV pole awkwardly to the window, staring out at the parking lot as if his father might still be there.

"I have to ell you something, Sammy," Westerly announced. "It's why I haven't come to see you today… I was being selfish, I couldn't… I didn't want… I'm sorry, I should have come sooner… but…"

Sammy turned and glanced over at the doctor who had come to mean so much to him over the passed weeks, growing concerned about the man as he saw sadness overcome him. He'd seen that look in his eyes once before, when he was telling him what had happened when he'd been taken from his own father when he was young, and later when his little brother had been taken from him… it scared Sammy to see that look again now.

"I was pulled into my bosses office this morning, a lady from Child Protective Services was there…"

"Miss Dogden?" Sammy asked, sounding small.

"No, another lady," Westerly told him, knowing that it would make no difference to the news. "My boss told me that we had to release you now, Sammy… he said you'd done so well recovering that it was time you were released into the care of the CPS. I tried to tell him that it was too soon, but he's a doctor too and he knew how well you were getting…"

"I have to leave?" Sammy asked, shrinking more.

"They're coming to get you any minute now," Westerly nodded sadly. "I'm sorry, I should have told you sooner, but I couldn't stand the thought… they're taking you to one of their facilities."

Sammy gulped.

"What does that mean?" he asked.

"You're not going to a home like Dean did," Westerly told him. "There aren't any available right now, so you're going to a sort of group home… there's lots of other kids there, all different ages, and they're going to take care of you until the hearing…"

"I don't wanna go!" Sammy cried.

"I know, Sam, I know," Westerly whispered. "I wish there was more I can do but…"

"Why can't I just stay with you?" Sammy asked. "Why can't I just go home?!?!"

Westerly helped Sammy back to bed and tried to calm him down. He quickly unhooked the boy from the IV and promised to sit with him until the lady came to collect him…

When Miss Dogden stood in the doorway, grinning ear to ear, however, Sammy stiffened with fear and Westerly wondered how far he could push her before he broke his father's 'never hit a woman' policy that he'd had drummed into him.

"I can't go with her," Sammy whispered, instantly afraid. "She hates me!"

Westerly winced as he helped Sammy to his feet. Sammy looked up at his friend and knew immediately that there was no other choice. He saw anger in his friends eyes, and something else… something disturbing… fear! Doctor Westerly was afraid!

"Don't make me go!" Sammy pleaded with him, clinging to his hand even as Miss Dogden grabbed his other wrist and dragged him away. Sammy tried to reach for him. "Please! Don't make me go! Let me stay! Please!"

Westerly felt his heart lurch painfully as he watched Sam Winchester being dragged away from him and soon the tears were flowing down his own cheeks and freely as Sam's.

"Wait!" he called, running to catch up to Miss Dogden. "Just wait!"

She stopped and glanced over at him.

"You can't just drag a patient out of ICU like that," he snapped at her angrily, pulling Sam away from her. He pulled a piece of paper from his coat pocket and handed it to her. "It's very important that this is followed very carefully. He's still no a hundred percent and it's vital that his treatment is continued. There's prescriptions waiting for him – pain meds and antibiotics – and the front desk, he needs to take them as prescribed…"

"I'll see he gets what he… needs," Miss Dogden assured him, her tone careful.

"I'll walk out with you," Westerly announced. He wanted to make sure Sammy had those prescriptions, and to make the transition easier for the boy. He took Sammy's hand in his and squeezed it gently. "You ready to go?"

Sammy blinked tearfully up at Westerly and nodded, clinging to his hand tightly.

The grip Sammy had on the doctor's hand didn't let up until he had gotten into the waiting car outside, and Westerly had to fight for composure as he watched the car drive away…

…it was barely around the corner when his legs gave out on him and dropped his weight on a nearby bench. He pulled out his cell phone and his the speed dial button for Jim Murphy.

"We have a problem," he announced grimly.

SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

"Shit," Jim hissed as he tossed the phone onto the desk and got to his feet so quickly that he knocked the chair over with a crash. Bobby looked up at him and John rushed in from the bathroom after just getting out of the shower. He was still buttoning his jeans as his shirt hung open, clinging to wet skin.

"What's wrong?" John asked.

"That was West," Jim told him. "Miss Dogden just turned up at the hospital… she's removed Sammy from the ICU and taken him to a facility… he's not going to a home, John… and from what West said, these facilities are barely more than a dozen cots squashed into a room!"

John paled.

"My boy's going to be in one of those places?" John gasped, looking ready to commit murder. "For how long?" Silence greeted his question. "Until the hearing?!?! No! They can't do that, he's just a kid!"

Silence filled the room, a painful silence as the three men considered what was happening in the saga that was fast beginning to consume their lives and their energy. There was so little left to make them smile, even John who had arrived back to the room two weeks earlier with a new purpose in his step that he had since refused to explain was looking as drawn and defeated as the rest felt. Jim had really hoped that whatever he had going on, wherever he went every day, would keep him going right up until the hearing but now…

Now he was fast realising that there was only one thing that was going to really keep John going… and that was getting his boys back.

"That woman…" John growled under his breath. "What is she thinking? What does she have against me? Why is she doing this? She's putting Sammy in that place to make me crazy! I know it, she's trying to push me into doing something…"

Jim grit his teeth, wishing he could tell John he was wrong, that he was just being paranoid.

"I think you're right," Jim admitted reluctantly. "I think she's out on a witch hunt, and I think she's got you in her sights, John… but we're not going to let her win, we're not going to let her push you until you do something stupid. We have a plan, now, remember? You have something up your sleeve, I can see that much in your eyes… we're going to figure this out, I promise."

John nodded but didn't say anything. Jim just hoped he'd said enough to calm down the murderous energy he recognised in the oldest of the Winchester clan. He needed to hold it together for a while longer… they were still waiting to hear from Miss Rose with a date for the hearing.

Miss Rose, the one person in the CPS who seemed to be on their side. She had taken a lot of responsibility on her shoulders and she fought the powers that be at every step, trying to hazard some control over this case, trying to stop Miss Dogden wherever she could. She had obviously lost the battle to keep Sammy out of an institution but Jim hoped she had won the battle to go ahead and set a date for the hearing. Miss Dogden certainly wasn't in a hurry to do so, and Jim wondered if she ever would if she got her way… but on that, he was sure, Miss Rose wasn't going to lose.

Ten seconds later, the thought barely formed in his mind, Jim's phone rang again. He snatched it up, talked briefly for a moment and then snapped it shut and tossed it to the desk again.

"A month," he growled. "The quickest date Miss Rose could get was a month!"

SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

John barely registered Jim's comment as his mind raced. He had a lot to do and only a few more weeks to do it in… a month? That meant his boys will have been away from him for almost two months total… that was a long time. He wondered how much they would have grown by then. He wondered if Dean would still be speaking by then… Miss Rose had informed them that Dean had spoken to her a little about the home he was in and he had been moved to another home. One that was run by one of Miss Roses oldest friends. She wouldn't tell him what had caused the sudden move, but John was grateful that she had pulled the strings to make it happen nonetheless.

He felt so helpless, knowing his boys were surviving without him… without anyone who loved them by their side… he hated being away from them, hated it!

This was not going to happen, no way. He was going to get his boys back if it killed him.

"I have to go out," he announced grimly, grabbing his keys and stalking out the door.

SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

Sammy refused to cry again as Miss Dogden took him by the wrist and dragged him into the old looking building that overlooked a park and a pastry shop. He swallowed hard, trying to ignore the pain he was still in as she walked too quickly for him to be able to keep up without running, but refused to say anything to her about it. If he told her she was hurting him, Sammy was certain she'd just walk quicker.

He hadn't said a word to her since leaving Doctor Westerly, and he planned on keeping it that way. He didn't want to be anywhere near her, but he couldn't control that. What he could control was what he did when he was with her… and that was going to be absolutely nothing. He wouldn't look at her, wouldn't speak to her and he sure as hell wouldn't do anything to make the process easier.

When they'd pulled up in the car, Sammy sat still. He hadn't undone his seatbelt or opened the door, he'd just sat there and waited, making her do it all herself. He didn't want to be here, after all, he wanted to be with his father and brother… or at least Doctor Westerly. If she wanted him here, she'd have to work for it!

The one thing that had almost broken Sammy's resolve, however, was realising there was no parking lot out the front, and the one out the back was closed to the public. There was no way his father would be able to sit outside and watch for him!

Sammy stumbled through the door and skidded to a halt as Miss Dogden released his hand. He glanced behind him, considering running away and trying to find his dad, but he knew that would just make things harder for everyone. He didn't want to make it harder… not for anyone but Miss Dogden at least.

"Samuel Winchester, checking in," Miss Dogden announced by way of greeting the woman at the front desk. She dropped paper work, a file and some medicine bottles on the counter. "This is his medical advice and pills, see that he takes them as directed… do you have the form?"

The woman, not speaking to Miss Dogden either Sammy noticed, pushed a piece of paper toward her with a pen on top of it. Miss Dogden signed it and pushed it back before turning back toward Sammy with a grin that he had always been sure could only be worn by demons.

"Now, Samuel," she announced. "You be good for these people, okay? And since you're being so unco-operative, I wont be seeing you again until the hearing… did I mention that was in a month? No, I'm sure I'd forgotten to tell you. Don't worry, though, a month is plenty of time…"

She stalked passed him and out the door. Sammy glanced at the woman standing in front of him, offering him a little smile.

"Hi Sam," she greeted him. "I'm Hazel. I work the front desk here, but if there's anything you need you just let me know, okay?"

Sammy nodded, uncertain whether to trust this latest woman. None of the other women had been helping him… unless he counted Miss Rose, and he wasn't sure yet whether he did.

"Okay, well follow me and I'll show you where your room is," she suggested, holding the door open for him. Beyond the door were some steps, which Sammy took very carefully since he wasn't feeling very well. "There are twelve rooms in all, and each room has lots of kids in it so you wont be alone. You're in room eleven. There's a nice boy name Joseph in there, he's the oldest and he sort of looks out for the other boys in there… like a big brother."

Sammy gulped. He wanted to tell her that he already had a big brother and he wouldn't be needing a new one, but he didn't say anything. He was too afraid to tell her anything, still uncertain whether she was as nice as she seemed.

"Each floor has an adult on shift at all times, so if you need help or need to talk at all, you just let them know and they'll take care of you," Hazel continued. "There's also an infirmary on the top floor, but you can only go there with an adult, so you have to let you Floor Supervisor know that you're not feeling well and they'll take you up. The dining hall is on the floor below the infirmary and everyone is called there over the announcement system, okay?"

Sammy nodded.

"Here we are," Hazel announced, leading Sammy to a room on the fourth floor and pushing the door open. There were eight cots in the room and not a lot of space in between them. There was nowhere for them to put anything personal and Sammy guessed that these places weren't meant to be called home. Hazel, catching his eye, hurried to explain. "There's a lounge at the end of the hall with a TV, but it's pretty competitive and there's only limited room… there's also a game room with puzzles and things like that. Are you enrolled in school, Sam?"

Sammy shook his head.

"Well, we do run classes here and things like that," she said. "You don't have to be enrolled to participate in the, so don't feel like you can't join in okay?"

Sammy nodded, though he knew he wouldn't be joining in on any classes. No way. He'd go to school when his father drove him there and took him inside to meet the head master, and not before. That's how it was supposed to work!

"This is your bed," Hazel led Sammy to a bed on the far side of the room, the furthest from the door. "Joseph's bed is right next to yours. He trades beds with people so he can be close to the new boys in case they need anything in the night. He's a nice boy, you'll like him a lot. All the adults here do, he's a big help!"

Hazel saw that Sammy had no possessions to put with his bed, so she led him up the hall to the game room where other kids were busy playing. She caught the attention of an adult across the room and indicated Sammy, waiting for the man to join them.

"This is Pete, he's the Floor Supervisor on your floor today," Hazel told him. "Pete, this is Sam Winchester."

"Hi Sam," Pete greeted him. He seemed really nice too, Sammy thought. But I don't trust him. I wont trust any of them!

"Pete goes off duty after supper, and then you'll have Harold. He retired once, and it's kind of like having Santa Clause around, isn't it Pete?" Hazel asked, laughing.

Pete nodded.

"He even looks like good ole Saint Nick!" Pete chuckled, indicating with his hands that the man had a big round stomach. "All he needs in the red suit and the reindeer, huh?"

Sammy didn't answer.

"Okay, well I have to get back to it, so I'll leave you with Pete and he'll introduce you around, okay?" Hazel asked. She offered Pete a concerned look that Sammy was sure he hadn't been supposed to notice, so he ignored it. When she was gone, Pete glanced down at Sammy and smiled.

"You're pretty quiet, huh?" he asked.

Sammy shrugged and let Pete lead him further into the room. He was tired and growing sore, his chest hurt a little, but he didn't want to tell anyone. He hadn't been allowed out of bed for this long since he'd woken up in the hospital and now he knew why.

"This is Joshua," Pete announced proudly, introducing Sammy to a large boy that must have been about twelve years old. He was heavy and wore a mean scowl on his face when he looked at Sammy. "He'll take care of you, wont you Josh?"

Joshua grinned up at Pete, suddenly looking the very picture of respectability.

"Aboslutely, Sir," he assured the man. "I'll take real good care of him…"

SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

Sammy's first encounter with Joshua didn't happen until the following morning. He was sleeping tiredly in his cot when he heard a commotion. He knew he had overslept when he opened his eyes and saw that all the other kids were gone. He was certain he had missed breakfast, though the nausea running through him told him it wouldn't have mattered if he'd tried to eat. He hadn't been given any of his pain killers yet and he was really starting to hurt.

Joshua was standing across the room with a younger boy cowering in front of him. The boy looked about Dean's age, but he didn't seem half as brave as Dean was.

That's because he's not a Winchester, Sammy thought, pulling his aching body out of his cot.

Joshua was hissing in the boys face, though Sammy couldn't hear what he was saying until he got closer. Joshua was threatening the boy, telling him to remain silent or he'd be in trouble, and by the time Sammy was within a few feet of the pair Joshua had raised his hand as if to strike him.

"HEY!" Sammy yelled, breaking his silence for the first time since walking in the door. "Leave him alone!"

Joshua turned around, glaring at the unwelcome interruption.

"Who asked you to exist, Squirt?" Joshua asked him, stepping toward him angrily. "Your own Daddy don't want you, that's why you're here! I know all about you, you pathetic loser… who said you could just waltz in here and tell me how to run my floor?"

"It's not your floor," Sammy reminded him, carefully, positioning himself between the bully and his intended victim. "You can't push people around!"

"Watch me!" Joshua snapped. He took a swing at Sammy but he ducked and drove his fist into the bigger boys stomach. His punch wasn't as strong as his father's or brother's, but it was enough to knock some of the wind out of Joshua's lungs. "You little shit!"

Joshua swung at Sammy again, only this time Sammy wasn't fast enough to avoid the blow and was knocked to his feet.

"Get up, you little worm!" Joshua yelled. "Get up or spend the day crawling around on the ground where you belong!"

Sammy felt a cut on his lip and knew it had already started swelling, but he ignored it and got to his feet.

"You're gonna regret that," he warned in his most threatening tone. Joshua hesitated for a moment before taking a step closer to him again.

Before he could take another swing, the door opened and Pete wandered in.

"I was wondering where you boys had…" Pete trailed off. He eyed the three of them suspiciously before turning to Joshua for an explanation. "What's going on here?"

Sammy crossed his arms across his chest, daring Joshua to say something.

"The new kid was picking on Danny," Joshua announced, shrugging his shoulders dismissively. "Just trying to explain the rules, Pete. I'm sure he'll pick up on it…"

"Take Danny for breakfast, Josh," Pete announced. Danny reluctantly followed the older boy out of the room and Pete turned his attention on Sammy. "Mr Winchester… I don't think you understand how we work here… see, each of these boys has been through something hard and scary, and they are here until a better hom can be found for them. Just like you, so I would expect you to be a little more understanding in the future, okay?"

Sammy refused to answer, glaring at the man who hadn't even bothered to get his side of the story before telling him off.

"And, just for the future? If you do plan on fighting, don't pick on someone almost twice your age, okay? You're only five… what did you think you could really do?"

Sammy wanted to tell him the truth, and to point out that he'd managed to hit Joshua hard enough to stop the fight long enough for Pete to walk in, so he could obviously do something… he wasn't as weak and pathetic as this man obviously thought he was – and he sure as hell wasn't a bully!

"Now come on, I'll take you up to the infirmary to get that cut looked at," Pete announced, shaking his head. "You should really be more careful…"

Sammy had to agree with that. He certainly hadn't made a friend in Joshua, and he knew he would have to watch his step from now on…

SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

_**A week later**_

Dean pushed his food around on his plate absent-mindedly. Things were definitely better here, but it just wasn't right to be away from his father – and especially wrong to be away from Sammy. He'd been thinking about his little brother a lot lately, wondering how he was doing, if he was okay, how he was recovering. Since talking to Miss Rose weeks before, he'd had no news about Sammy, and that was starting to bother him. Something niggled in the back of his mind, warning him that there was something wrong... something was wrong with Sammy.

His father told him that it was his Big Brother Switch, the one that he always used to keep Sammy safe all these years. The one that told him what was wrong with the younger boy, even when Sammy couldn't tell him himself. It was the switch that Dean had been sure malfunctioned that night in the woods, but now it seemed to be in full swing. Something was wrong with Sammy, he was certain of it!

Was someone hurting him? Was he in danger? He couldn't be, he decided, he's in the hospital! Little kids are safe in the hospital, right?

Something told Dean he was wrong, that there was something not quite right about this whole thing… there was something wrong with Sammy.

"Are you okay, Dean?" Sandy Marshall asked him, her face amass with concern. "You're not eating, is something wrong?"

Dean sighed, wishing he was better at hiding his feelings. Sandy was really nice and she had been very understanding in the few weeks he had been with her, but he hated talking to people about his family when he knew they'd never understand.

That was the problem here, he realised. They'd never understand.

"I'm worried about my brother," Dean announced. He'd been talking a little more since moving to the Marshall house, but only when he had something to say. He didn't feel much like talking most of the time. "Can we find out how he is?"

Sandy smiled.

"I'll put in a call to Miss Rose, how's that sound?" Sandy asked, her voice kind. "I'm sure he's fine, Dean, but I'll ask Miss Rose to check in on him okay?"

Dean's eyes lit up at the idea and he bounced in his seat anxiously.

"Now?" he asked, excited.

Sandy chuckled.

"Sure, why not?" she grinned, reaching behind her for the phone and dialling her friends number. Miss Rose must have answered right away because Sandy immediately explained what was going on. She thanked her friend and hung up again. "She's going to go see Sam tomorrow, Dean, okay? She'll make sure he's okay."

Dean grinned, satisfied that at least for now he had done what he could…

…until later that night when that anxiety rose in his chest and he found himself calling his brother's name at four in the morning.

SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

Sammy stumbled half blind out of his room and up the hall where the toilets were. He had woken up feeling generally unwell, feeling the almost overwhelming urge to relieve himself and the wave of nausea at the same time and uncertain which was going to take priority. When he reached the toilet and fumbled for the light only to find the bulb had blown or was somehow not working, he sighed and realised that he could be in a world of trouble in the morning. Messy toilets were not acceptable in this place, he knew. They were sticklers for tidiness and cleanliness, and Joshua was a stickler for forcing Sammy to do the filthy jobs. He called the 'rookie jobs' and said that every new kid on the block had to be initiated into their little family, but Danny had told him that he'd never heard of that and he'd been there almost a month.

For some reason, Joshua had taken an instant dislike to Sammy and he wished he knew why. At least then he could understand why he was suffering such ill treatment. He would find himself trapped alone in a room with Joshua with no way out but to go through the older boy, and the less pain meds the adults were letting him have the less strength he had to fight him off. He'd had two black eyes, a split lip and a bloody nose so far, and every time it came up Joshua said he'd caught Sammy fighting.

Nobody ever asked Sammy what had happened.

Sammy had learned to sleep lightly, never quite letting himself rest in case Joshua decided to pounce on him or suffocate him with a pillow or something. Every time he found himself under attack, Sammy had fought as hard as he could and occasionally managed to get in a lucky jab and knock Joshua away from him. But his hits never equalled that of the older boy and he found himself the victim of regular beatings… and he was starting to seriously feel the brunt of it. His still-recovering body was fighting hard to regain its strength, but every time Joshua got Sammy alone, Sammy could feel himself losing the battle.

He was almost certain that his life would be in serious danger, and really soon.

Stepping into the dark room, Sammy thought he heard something nearby. A rustling sound, some sort of movement… convincing himself he was growing paranoid from forever having to watch his back, Sammy headed further into the room.

As he stepped into a stall, however, something shoved him further inside and Sammy knew that he hadn't just been paranoid… and now his life really was in danger.

SUPERNATURAL

**A/N – You know, I wasn't going to end it here but I couldn't resist another evil cliffy!**


	9. Chapter 9

A/N – I've been wanting to make a note that this is a bad case of foster care. While, yes, unfortunately there are people involved in the system that aren't really trying to help kids in need, there are also those who are doing a wonderful job of changing the lives of children who haven't had a best opportunities in life. For the purposes of this story, however, since it's Supernatural and they can't have an easy life, I've had to opt for a few of the situations that are not the best. However, please remember that Dean is now in a safe home, and as for Sammy… well, if you haven't read my other fics you don't realise that I tend to give the kid a hard time, but don't worry… he always comes out of it in the end. I can't say anymore than that, but just remember while reading this that I am going for drama and angst, not hugs and puppies. I promise to try and work in some hugs and puppies later, though, okay?

Dedication: Epiphany63 and her great nephew Riley. Bully's are never good, but we fight the good fight every day that we get up and carry on in spite of them. Keep smiling and they never win the battle :) Stay strong, Riley :) And epiphany, you're review really touched me, thank you for sharing your story. I know how painful bullying can be and how hard it can be to overcome some of the scars they can leave you with if it's not dealt with. Sometimes we all need a hero, and we're not used to thinking we can be our own hero... I hope you like this chapter, I was thinking of you both when I wrote it and that's why I led it up to where I ended this particular one. I hope you like it, see a special note at the bottom to explain why it was my point while I thought of you guys...

Disclaimer: They're not mine, nothing changed over night and I still don't get paid to do this.

**Chapter Nine**

**Not to be believed**

Sammy awoke sometime later with a headache like none other he'd ever suffered, and a painful light streaming across his face. There was another light somewhere beyond that and it was being shone directly in his eyes. He tried to figure out where he was, knowing it was nowhere familiar and that he was definitely not alone. It bothered him that he couldn't see anyone because he could hear them and he wasn't sure he was safe. He vaguely remembered trying to go to the toilet but he had no idea when that was and what had happened since.

How long had he been sleeping for, he wondered.

"I think he's with us," a voice announced. "Sam, can you hear me?"

The voice was vaguely familiar, but Sammy wasn't sure where he'd heard it from. He was scared and wanted whoever it was to go away and leave him alone, to just let him sleep. He wanted his brother with him, his father… he didn't want to be alone anymore, he didn't want to be in this place anymore. It was a horribly place with horrible people and he just wanted to be allowed to go home where it was safe and comfortable and where people loved him.

Tears welled in his eyes and he tried to blink them away, closing his eyes against the light and trying to roll over so he wouldn't have to look anymore. Strong arms pulled him back, however, and he was forced to look beyond the light into the waiting face with concerned eyes.

Sara, the pretty nurse he had seen last time Joshua had cornered him and given him a black eye, was smiling down at him. She had seemed nice, but like everyone else she had believe Joshua's story and never asked Sammy what happened… he wondered if she ever would, she seemed like the most likely person. She seemed to care a little more than the others.

Only a little, though, and Sammy knew that he couldn't trust her.

"Sam?" she tried again. "Can you hear me."

"Yes," Sammy answered dumbly, wishing she'd go away.

"Do you know where you are?" she asked.

Sammy shrugged, assuming that if she was there then he must be in the infirmary.

"Upstairs," he answered simply. His voice sounded strange to him and his tongue felt thick.

"That's right," she smiled, switching off her pen light. "Joshua found you last night in the bathroom… you fell and hit your hit, do you remember that?"

Sammy shook his head to indicate that he didn't remember. It was true he didn't remember what had happened, but if that was Joshua's story then he knew for certain that his headache wasn't from a fall.

"You were unconscious for quite a while, kid, you can us quite a turn," Sara told him, sitting back in her seat and watching him carefully. "You don't seem to have a concussion though, so that's good. Just gave yourself a good crack on the head, huh?"

Sammy ignored her and looked away, not bothering to hide the angry glare in his eyes.

"Well, Pete's here to get you," Sara told him, indicating Pete was standing by the door. "You're good to go back now… a lot of boys are going to be relieved, too, since they had to close that toilet off and they've been using the one for the floor below yours."

Sammy was confused but he didn't question why they'd closed the toilets off. He figured he was about to find out anyway, since Pete helped him off the bed and led him out the room.

He dared a final glance at Sara, pleading silently with her to understand what was going on. She smiled at him and waved… Sammy knew she didn't understand.

Nobody would understand.

"Right," Pete announced, standing outside the bathroom door and handing Sammy a mop and bucket with no patience in his tone at all. "Since you made the mess, it's only fair you clean it up."

Sammy swallowed, not sure what Pete was talking about. But he'd worked out quickly that another house rule was no arguing…

He stepped into the bathroom, his hands shaking as the memory of stepping into the dark room flooding his mind. The lights were on and working now, and he wondered how Joshua had managed to fix whatever had been wrong with them the night before. It didn't matter, Sammy knew it didn't. He'd been here a little over a week now, and he still had a while to go. There was no sign of being moved anywhere else, and there was no guarantee that the hearing would go in his father's favour. He was starting to figure things out, and he knew that the world wasn't as pretty as he'd once thought.

Sammy hoped that one day he'd see the bright colours again, but he was starting to have doubts about whether they would exist in the world he lived in now…

He glanced around him, looking for the mess he'd been told was his fault. There was blood on the basin across from where he stood – from where he'd 'hit' his head, he guessed. There was a sticky mess of vomit not far from that, but whether that had happened before or after Sammy had hit his head he wasn't sure. He had a vague memory of not feeling very well. And not far from that was…

Oh God, Sammy thought, realising what the slowly drying puddle was. No one had made any attempt to clean it up and the smell was assaulting his nostrils. He'd obviously wet himself after he'd passed out. Sammy felt shame instantly overcome him, hoping he could manage to keep this whole incident quiet, hoping that no one would ever find out about it. He was certain that Joshua would tell people, and the adults probably all knew, but maybe he would never have to tell his dad, or Dean… or anyone else!

Sammy, with tears in his eyes, dunked the mop and began to scrub away the humiliating mess on the floor until he'd made himself dizzy…

_**An hour later**_

Sammy had finally finished cleaning the mess and had even managed to wipe away his tears before he kicked the bucket and dragged the mop back out into the hall. He was in a foul mood, angry with the world for being taken from his family and dumped somewhere like this. He hated everyone he saw, hated everyone he spoke to and just wish everyone would leave him alone.

He saw Joshua grinning wickedly at him from the doorway of the game room and he wished he could remember what had happened the night before.

"Sam Winchester, I hear you're having some teething problems settling in," Miss Rose called from the other end of the hall. She tried to smile at him but Sammy could see that she wasn't in a very good mood either. He wondered briefly why she was angry at the world, but he realised he found it really hard to care. Funny, Dean used to tease him about caring too much about everyone around him, saying it would give him an ulcer. Sammy wasn't sure what an ulcer was, but he was sure he didn't want one. Still he hadn't been able to stop caring, but now he found it perfectly natural.

Sammy almost laughed, the way he had seen Dean do so many times when someone had said or done something that he had thought was monumentally stupid, but he stopped himself. He hadn't decided if this woman was really helping him or not, but he didn't have many people on his side so he had to be nice in case she was.

"Something like that," he muttered instead. It wasn't that nice, maybe a little annoyed but still… better than just laughing in her face.

Miss Rose indicated they should go somewhere to talk, but the look on her face hadn't disappeared. It wasn't just anger, Sammy realised, it was mixed with a disapproval that he'd seen on his father's face before.

"You want to tell me about last night?" she asked, concern sounding genuine to his young ears.

Sammy shook his head.

"You protecting someone?" she asked. "Because if someone's picking on you or hurting you, you cant protect them, Sam. You have to tell me so that I can help you."

"I don't remember what happened," Sammy told her, his voice raising slightly in the hopes that she'd believe him. "I think it was…"

Miss Rose waited.

"Who, Sam?" she prompted.

But Sammy had spotted Joshua passing the doorway and clamped his mouth shut. He didn't want to get himself in more trouble than he already was, the next time he might not be so lucky, he might just find out what the boy really had up his sleeve.

"Nobody," Sammy muttered. Miss Rose glanced over her shoulder too see if someone was standing behind her but Joshua had already disappeared again.

"Sam," Miss Rose tried again. "If you tell me what's going on, I can help you. Is someone hurting you?"

Sammy looked down, refusing to answer.

"Look, I can see you have more injuries than you had when I saw you last, and I don't believe for a second that you 'slipped' in the bathroom, but if you don't talk to me my hands are tied," she told him, her voice serious and stern. Sammy wanted to tell her, but he was sure that she probably new Joshua and she would believe the older boys account of the story. "Sam, come on… is it one of the adults? Have they done something…?"

Sammy shook his head. The adults hadn't been fair, but they hadn't hurt him… not physically at least. He just wasn't used to having no one listen to him, not even to tell him to shut up. At home, at least, he usually got to talk before someone would tell him he was wrong or didn't know what he was talking about… after all, he was only five and he was usually talking about a cartoon when they said that – like the time that he asked his dad if demon's heads spun around when he shot them like the ducks in the cartoon.

Still, Miss Rose was actually asking him what happened… no one else had done that so far.

"One of the other kids?" she asked, pushing a little harder.

Sammy looked up, wanting to tell her everything. Joshua appeared in the doorway behind her again and this time he drew a line with his finger across his throat, indicating to Sammy that he'd be a dead man if he said anything.

Sammy bit his lip and looked back down again. Miss Rose jumped to her feet and, even though she couldn't see anyone at the door or in the hallway when she checked, she slammed the door shut and turned to face Sammy with a new determination in her eyes.

"Sam, if you don't tell me what's going on, I can't help you," she tried again. "If someone is hurting you, tell me and I can get you out of here…"

Sammy glanced at her, a new hope in his eyes.

"Really?" he asked, sounded younger than his five years.

"Yes, really… but you have to talk to me first," she told him. "Is someone hurting you?"

Sammy nodded, trying to hide his shame at not being able to protect himself – and for what he had just cleaned up in the bathroom.

"Who was it?" she asked, an angry set to her jaw.

Sammy hesitated again, still not convinced that she would believe him.

"Dean's been worried about you, Sam," she announced suddenly. Sammy's eyes widened dramatically at the mention of his brother. "He's the reason I'm here. He got his foster mother to call me and demanded I check in on you… he was convinced that you were in trouble. I don't want to go back to him and tell him that I couldn't help him because you wouldn't talk to him."

Miss Rose had dealt a low blow, but she had to get Sammy to talk… and it worked. Tears welled up in the boys eyes and his lower lip trembled before the words finally came tumbling out.

"Joshua did it," he cried. "He was picking on Danny and I tried to help him and he's been hitting me ever since! I try to fight back but I'm so tired and I don't have my pain killers and I can't fight anymore, I can't!"

Miss Rose sat with her mouth wide open as if she wanted to say something, but the words refused to come out.

"Everyone here loves him, they think he's great and helps everyone, but he's not," Sammy told her, unable to stop now he'd started and the tears flowing all the more. "I hate it here! They're all mean and no one would believe me if I told them! He knows I'm talking to him and he's going to get me for it, I just know it!"

"Sam," Miss Rose interrupted him, resting her hand on the boys knee. "I'm going to arrange somewhere for you to stay, okay? But I might not be able to find anywhere until morning… will you be okay here tonight? If you want I can take you with me and we can try and figure something out…"

Sammy shook his head and bit his lip. He wanted more than anything to leave, but he was sure he could avoid Joshua for one night.

It was just one more night…

SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

It was two in the morning when Sammy awoke with a full bladder once again. He couldn't understand what was going on since he had deliberately tried to keep his fluids to a minimum in the hopes of not having to go to the toilet during the night again. It was the one time he couldn't be sure he wouldn't be trapped with Joshua…

But it wasn't meant to be, he realised. He needed to pee, and the urge was bad, so he climbed out of bed and stealthily left the room. He knew there were only a few more hours left of the night and then Miss Rose would be taking him somewhere safer than here. She had even tried to find him a room on a different floor, but she had had difficulty convincing them of Sammy's situation, and there were no empty beds.

Sammy wondered what would happen to Joshua when she had found somewhere for Sammy and been able to return her attention to him. She said she'd take care of him and he wouldn't need to worry, but he was curious. And she said something about investigating the facility because they'd made him clean the bathroom with a head injury when it hadn't been his fault… Sammy had almost started to decide that he liked her and she might actually be on his side when he reached the toilet.

He pushed the door open.

The lights didn't work again.

Sammy backed away from the door…

Someone was standing behind him and grabbed him hard, clamping a hand over his mouth and pushing him through the door. Sammy struggled, but his body was still struggling to do as he had asked it to and he couldn't fight back. He found himself tossed in a heap into a corner and glanced up.

Joshua stood before him, grinning that evil grin…

And he had something in his hands…

"You ever heard about prisons and plungers, Sam?" Joshua asked. Sammy shook his head, uncertain of what the boy meant but scared of the suggestion anyway. "Put it this way, there are nasty places to get splinters."

The realisation of the boys words hit him hard and Sammy immediately felt fear threaten to choke the life out of him before Joshua ever got the chance. Still, survival instinct kicked in and he launched himself and his sore body out of the corner and straight at the boy in front of him with a roar of rage coming out of his throat.

He pushed Joshua up against the door as hard as he could and raised his knee to the older boys groin. He didn't get the aim he had wanted, but it had given Joshua pause long enough for Sammy to try the door.

It was locked! He was trapped! He felt around for the locking mechanism but couldn't seem the find it, and then Joshua had him again. He tossed him aside again and raised the plunger over his head before bringing it down on Sammy's back hard. Sammy hit the ground again, a puff of air escaping his lungs. He tried to curl up onto his side to protect himself, wrapping his arms around his head to try and stop it from connecting, but he found it increasingly hard to fight the darkness that tugged at the edge of his vision.

"Please don't…" he pleaded, no longer caring about being strong. He wanted to scream for Dean to help him, to call for his father, but he knew they couldn't help him now… he was all alone. "Please…"

"You gonna rat me out, you little shit?" Joshua hissed at him. "I gotta beat some manners into you, you gotta learn whose boss! You ain't gonna try and get me into trouble!"

The last thing Sammy heard was a banging sound, and then nothing but darkness…

SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

Sammy wasn't sure exactly what woke him, but his eyes had trouble adjusting to the light and he glanced around him. It wasn't his room at the facility, it wasn't the infirmary and it sure wasn't the motel room he shared with his father and brother. He had no idea where he was, and it scared him more than anything had so far.

He was in a strange place with no one to look out for him…

"Sam?" a familiar voice reached out to him through the haze that his vision struggled to make sense of. He couldn't see who the voice belonged to, but he was certain he recognised it. It was kind and male, someone who had made him feel better, he was sure. "Sam, can you hear me?"

Sammy opened his eyes again, not realising he'd closed them. How long had he been out for?

"Sam?"

Sammy's eyes caught sight of someone sitting in a chair beside him wearing a white lab coat like doctors wore. He wasn't smiling… he had dark eyes and Sammy could see that they were worried about him. His hair was dark too and it hung around his brow. Sammy was certain he knew this person, but who was it?

"Sam, it's okay, you're at the hospital," the voice told him. "That boys headed straight for juvenile detention, he wont be hurting anyone for a while, okay?"

Sammy tried to open his mouth to speak, but he felt like his head was double it's usual size and nothing was working.

"It's okay, you don't have to talk now, just rest," the voice continued. "Do you remember what happened?"

Sammy didn't respond. He couldn't remember much of anything, but he couldn't get his voice to work to tell the doctor that. It had to be a doctor if he was wearing and coat and I'm in the hospital, right? Sammy thought. That thought swirled around in his head for a while, looking for something to connect with, but there was nothing there so it settled somewhere off in the dark recesses of his brain.

"The night supervisor, Harold I think his name was… he heard the boy and tried to get to you," the voice told him, filling in the blanks. "You were already unconscious by the time he broke the door down, and the other boy tried to say he was defending himself… nice huh? Harold didn't believe him for a second and called an ambulance and the police… Miss Rose too, and when you got here one of the nurses who took care of you before paged me…"

Sammy opened his eyes again. The man's voice was starting to fade and Sammy wondered if it was because he was talking softer every now and then or if Sammy just couldn't hear him sometimes. Either way, he was too tired to care.

"You're okay, though, Sammy," the voice told him again. "You're going to be in here for a little while and then you'll be placed with one of Miss Rose's best carers until the hearing, okay?"

Sammy couldn't hear him anymore, he was too tired. He let his eyes droop and allowed himself to drift off into the darkness…

SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

Sammy didn't know how long he'd been out for but when he woke up he was aware of two things. One was a blinding pain behind his eyes and the other was a presence in the room. He tried to turn his head but it hurt his neck and the best he could manage was a grunt of pain.

"Sam?" a voice reached him. "How you feeling?"

"Tired," Sammy managed, his voice dry and croaky. "Head… hurts…"

Someone moved and Sammy felt something tugging at his hand. He must have an IV again, he figured, remembering how it had felt before.

"You'll feel better in a few minutes, kid," the voice told him, leaning down so Sammy could see him. "Hi there… remember me?"

Sammy's brow furrowed in concentration as he tried to think back, but finally it hit him.

"Doctor Westerly?" he asked, shifting slightly.

"That's right, kid," Westerly told him, sounding relieved. "I've been a bit worried about you…"

"How long…?" Sammy asked, trying to finish his sentence but finding it hard to speak through the pounding in his head.

"How long have you been here?" Westerly asked.

Sammy nodded slightly.

"It's been three days, Sam," Westerly answered gently. "You've been in and out of consciousness for three days. It's not too bad, no fractures or anything, just a nasty concussion. You got lucky, though."

"He was going to kill me," Sammy told him. "I thought I could stay away from him, but I needed… I needed…"

"You needed what, Sam?"

"Did I…?" Sammy tried again, blushing furiously. "Did I pee?"

Westerly frowned, confusion in his eyes.

"I don't understand, Sam," he admitted.

Sammy sighed and decided it didn't matter. He didn't care anymore, he didn't want to think about it. Before he could get much further, his eyes drifted shut again involuntarily and he felt himself floating through the great abyss that he had come to know and appreciate.

SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

Miss Rose had visited a few times over the next week. The first time she had a police officer with her and Sammy had had to tell him everything he remembered about his time in the facility for the case against Joshua. She assured him that, since Joshua had been caught in the act, Sammy wouldn't have to testify against him but they still needed a statement about everything he'd done. Sammy thought he would cry when he explained about everything, but instead a numbness came over him and he got through the whole story without an ounce of emotion.

He wondered if his father and Dean would be proud of him… did they know what had happened? Did they know he was in hospital again? Would they be angry that he hadn't told anyone what had happened?

The next time Miss Rose had visited she had another woman with her. Her name was Josephine Waters, and she had been really nice. Miss Rose had explained that, when Sammy was ready to leave the hospital, he would be staying with Josephine until the hearing.

Sammy hoped he would never have to leave the hospital. So far it had been the only place he'd been safe since leaving his father's side.

On this particular occasion, however, Miss Rose had an extra special surprise for him. She pulled her cell phone from her purse and dialled a number while Sammy watched on in confusion. She spoke into the phone briefly and then gave the phone to Sammy with a big smile on her face.

Sammy was confused, but he took the phone and pressed it against his ear.

"Hello?" he asked whoever was at the other end.

"Sammy?" Dean's voice broke through. Sammy felt tears slipping down his face instantly as relief washed over him just hearing his brother say his name. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," Sammy said, unsure of what else to say. "My head hurts."

"King of understatement there little brother?" Dean chuckled. "Hope you gave the bastard a hiding."

Sammy blushed. He had tried to, but how was he supposed to tell his brother he had failed.

"You're okay now, little brother," Dean assured him. "Miss Rose is real nice and she's setting you up with a lady who knows Sandy… that's the lady I'm staying with. You wont be far from here, but for some reason we still wont be able to see each other until next week at the hearing."

"It's not fair," Sammy pouted miserably. "Why wont they leave us alone?"

Dean sighed.

"I don't know, Sammy," he admitted. "But it's all gonna be over really soon, okay? We'll be back home with dad, together, just like old times really soon, okay?"

"Okay," Sammy answered pathetically.

"You trust me, don't you little brother?" Dean asked, doubt filling the phone line.

"Yes!" Sammy answered in a rush. Dean chuckled. "I've missed you!"

"I know, me too," Dean told him. "You get some rest now, okay? I want you to be real healthy for when we see Dad again, okay? Let the doctor's take care of you. Miss Rose told me you'll be able to go home with Josephine tomorrow…"

Sammy hesitated, glancing at the woman standing beside Miss Rose.

"I don't wanna go with her, Dean," Sammy whined. "I wanna go home with you and Dad."

"I know, Sam, believe me," Dean told him. "But trust me, she's real nice and she'll make you her famous pancakes for breakfast okay? I've never had them, but Sandy's told me about them. She makes them really fluffy."

Sammy glanced at the woman again.

"Okay, Dean," he sighed, pouting some more. "But only coz you said so…"

Dean chuckled again.

"You be good, little brother, and we'll be together again really soon…"

"Promise?"

"I promise…"

SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

Josephine Waters took her charge home from the hospital the following day as Dean had told him she would, and Sammy had pouted the whole drive. When they got there, however, he saw something in the front yard that made him open his eyes wide with awe.

"Wow!" he gasped, grinning widely. "Is that…?"

"That's Chester," Josephine told him, grinning at her best friend. "He's a golden retriever and the absolutely most useless guard dog in history… but he sure does love everyone."

Sammy bounced out of the car the minute it stopped and raced over to the dog with none of the grace or delicacy of someone who had ever been near a dog, launching himself at the fluffy beast. They immediately rolled all over the front lawn as if they had been the best of friends their entire lives, Sammy laughing with a joy that he hadn't felt in several weeks.

When he and Chester finished greeting each other, they lay side by side panting on the front lawn.

"So, Chester Boy, have I been replaced or what?" Josephine asked, her voice teasing. The dog raised his head from Sammy's stomach and looked up at her, but refused to leave his new friend even for the belly rub he always got when She got home. "I should've known!"

She laughed and hurried to the front door, unlocking it quickly.

"Come on you two," she called. "I've got something special inside for a late breakfast since someone told me that a certain Sam Winchester had refused to heat his breakfast at the hospital this morning!"

Sammy sat up, excitement at the possibility of pancakes as fluffy as Dean had promised and immediately pulled his aching body to his feet. He still wasn't a hundred percent, but he had no stitches anymore – not even from his head injury from the last fight with Joshua – and he was starting to feel more normal.

More like a Winchester again.

Within minutes of being inside, Sammy had been shown to his room where a closet full of clothes awaited him to change into since he'd only had one or two pairs of jeans and two shirts at the facility and by the time he'd left they'd all been ruined. He changed with Chester watching him carefully, as if the dog was aware that he had just been in hospital and was refusing to leave him unsupervised. Together they headed out to the dining room where Josephine was piling two plates hight with pancakes and popping a special bone shaped pancake in Chester's bowl on the wall opposite the table.

Chester refused to eat his pancake until he watched Sammy tuck into his breakfast. Finally, with a satisfied huff, Chester walked carefully to his bowl, nosing it around until he could watch his new friend while he ate, and finally tucked into his own breakfast.

"He really likes you," Josephine told Sammy as the boy reached for his second helping. "I've never seen him quite like this before. He's really gonna miss you when you go back to your dad."

"When I go?" Sammy asked, his face falling. "Everyone keeps saying that Dad will probably lose."

"Who said that?" Josephine asked.

"Miss Dogden."

Josephine laughed.

"Sam, listen to me… you're a great kid and I'd be proud to call you my own son, but trust me when I say you're going to go home with your dad…" she assured him. "I know these things."

"How?" Sammy asked, his eyes wide as she smiled at him.

"Because I'm just that clever and I know that your dad loves you and is a wonderful dad, I can see it," she explained. She chuckled lightly. "That and the fact that Miss Dogden is a Poopy Head who doesn't know what she's talking about… I'm sure that she'll be tossed on her… well, she'll have a few things to think about before this case is over."

Sammy grinned, immediately loving this woman who sat across from him. He'd never heard a grown up say 'poopy head' before, but he decided that he liked the term and would have to remember to tell Dean about it.

Or maybe he would just pull it out next time Dean annoyed him… he could just imagine Dean's face at being told he was a poopy head!

"Why wouldn't Miss Rose tell me that she didn't think Miss Dogden knew what she was talking about?" Sammy asked, growing serious.

"Because she wasn't allowed to," Josephine told him. "See, they work together and there are certain rules to dealing with these sorts of things. But one of the brilliant things about doing what I do is that I get to help wonderful little boys like you and say exactly what I think about stupid women like Miss Dogden."

Sammy grinned and finished off his pancake as he felt a hairy nudge against his knee and glanced down at Chester who had finished his pancake and decided he wanted to be near his knew friend. Sammy spent the next ten minutes eating – or rather, sharing – his pancakes with Chester, and when he felt himself getting tired from all the excitement and the injuries that still plagued him a little, he allowed Josephine to carry him off to his room and tuck him into bed.

The room was blue, freshly painted from the faintest odour that tickled Sammy's nose, and he had a blue doonah cover with pictures of superheroes on it. Chester jumped up and snuggled up beside him, his head resting on the pillow beside Sammy's, and Sammy fell asleep with his face snuggled into the warm fur of his new friend.

Rest soon came to him as the reassuring words of Josephine Waters reached him from the doorway before she turned the lights off.

"You'll be going home with your dad and brother, Sam," she told him. "I know you will…"

**SUPERNATURAL**

**A/N – A little passed my bedtime, I'll admit, but I wanted to hit three chapters for the day and break that record I've set lately! Besides, I couldn't, in all good consciousness, leave it with an evil cliffy like that… Sammy deserved a bit of a break, and I just love golden retrievers! There is no love or therapy quite like what a beautiful dog can offer you. Hope you liked it! More tomorrow!**

** Note to epiphany63 and Riley; I wanted to leave this chapter, for you guys, with Sammy feeling safe and protected even after everything he went through because at the end of the day there's always something to smile about. Sammy couldn't have his family, but he could have Chester to watch out for him and so it seemed natural for the two of them to snuggle up together like that. That feeling, the peaceful and safe feeling that Sammy fell asleep with can be found in all of us but sometimes we just need a hug... for a long time I couldn't turn to my family either, and I didn't have a dog... but now I have both and I've never felt so peaceful in my life. It took a long time to get here and I never realised it didn't have to. My family was there, I just didn't know it at the time... but Riley has you there for him and that seems to be the most wonderful thing I can think of. I go to sleep at night smiling about everything I have to be thankful of and it makes all the pain and worries and fears go away. That's where Sammy's at and that's what I wanted you to have by the time you reached the ending... a bit of peace from the bullies of the world - the fic world and the real world. Okay, said my mushy bits, hope you liked this chapter and that it might make you feel a bitter better. See you next time!  
**


	10. Chapter 10

A/N – Hey, I just remembered that I promised hugs and puppies, and I didn't even realise it but I managed to deliver didn't I! I'm so glad that you all liked Chester so much, he's a beautiful dog isn't he? And thank you for the wonderful reviews, believe me I'm working on replies but I got so inspired in writing that I've put them on the back burner for a while! Whoops! But then again, I don't hear complaints about two or three chapters a day, so maybe I shouldn't worry huh? LoL

Disclaimer: They're not mine, nothing changed over night and I still don't get paid to do this.

**Chapter Ten**

**Game Faces**

John Winchester stood in the hall outside the room where the hearing would be held. It was more informal than an actual court case, but the doors seemed somehow more intimidating than John had been prepared for. Those doors took on a personality of their own, and it was more threatening and scary than any demon or supernatural creature John had ever come across. Those doors took on the persona of the person who would decide the fate of his family, as if – just by walking through – he would be judged in an instant and the decision would be made.

This was a day that John would remember forever… it would either be the day he took his boys home again, or the day he struggled to catch his breath as panic overwhelmed him as they were separated permanently.

The hearing would start in thirty minutes, and John could barely sit still. His boys would arrive soon and they'd be allowed to come into the room. The judge would ask them questions and he would actually get to see them. He had been dreaming of this day for weeks, wondering what he could say to them, what he wanted to say to them, but nothing came to mind. Nothing seemed appropriate… 'I love you' seemed lame. 'I miss you' seemed pathetic… neither could relay to the boys how he really felt at being away from them, and what he really wanted to say… well, he couldn't tell them. He didn't want to get their hopes up.

Thoughts of the passed two weeks tormented John. There was a banging in his head as a knock from the passed haunted him… a knock on the motel door, frantic, angry and desperate.

SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

_**Two and a half weeks earlier**_

Jim opened the door, panicked at the desperation he heard in the sound. John had heard it from the shower and rushed to get out, pulling clothes on without bothering to take the time to dry off first. This couldn't be a good visit, it couldn't be good news… there was too much worry behind the knock for it to be anything but bad new.

And he knew instantly that one of his boys were in trouble.

"West?" he greeted the doctor, confused. "What's wrong?"

"It's Sammy," West said, barely able to catch his breath. John's eyes went wide as his knees threatened to give out on him. He wasn't sure how much more he could take, the past month had been so hard on him, so painful, and the thought of his boys suffering any kind of pain when he couldn't be there to help them was too much for him.

He managed to stay on his feet.

"Wh-what do you mean it's Sammy?" he stammered. "Where is he?"

Westerly wanted to look away, John could see it but he didn't. He held John's gaze and took a deep breath… it was coming, whatever horrible thing had happened to his baby boy, John was about to hear it.

"He's at the hospital," Westerly announced, his voice sounding weak and tired. "I was paged early this morning… he was found beaten in the toilets at that damn home!"

"WHAT!" John yelled, launching himself at Westerly. Jim and Bobby, both holding their breaths to hear the news, were on their feet now and held John back. Westerly had jumped back from him, uncertain of what he should do when someone as strong as John was coming after him and equally uncertain why he was baring the brunt of the man's anger. But John wasn't seeing the doctor stand in front of him anymore, he was seeing just red, just a blood red in the darkness that was threatening to overcome him as he thought of his tiny boy lying in another hospital bed, hurt… and John couldn't get to him.

He felt strong hands leading him to a nearby bed and relented when they pushed him to sit down. He hung his head in his hands and tried to breathe through the rage that was racing through him. He felt suddenly hot, as if his blood were literally beginning to boil.

"He's got a severe concussion, some possible memory loss…" Westerly explained gently.

"Why didn't you tell me sooner?" John asked, his voice low but dangerous.

"I haven't left his side all day, John," Westerly told him. "I came as soon as I felt I could leave him for long enough to tell you…"

"Memory loss?" John asked, the words just registering with him. "What do you mean, memory loss?"

"Short term memory is sometimes effected by a concussion like this," Westerly answered, sitting on the edge of the bed across from John, somehow not afraid to get closer to the man. He trusted John Winchester, and he would never quite be able to understand why, but he knew he was in no real danger from the man. "It's normally temporary, but there's really no way to tell until we see the effects. Right now, each time he wakes up we're having the same conversation… where he is, what happened to him, what his injuries are, that sort of thing. It's just the first day, but I think we'll have a couple more like this before he recovers…"

"He was supposed to be safe," John growled. "This wasn't supposed to happen! Whose the asshole that did this to him?"

"I don't know the whole story, but from what Miss Rose tells me it was an older kid named Joshua. He's about twelve, and his history is… well, nasty. It's mostly just come to light today, until now everyone thought he was a good kid from a sad, abusive background… until the parents finally spoke up, no one realised that this kid was the abuser. He tortured the family birds with cow prods until they died… he was a nasty piece of work. He's headed straight for juvie, though I would imagine there'd be a lot worse for him after that."

John breathed, trying to understand what Westerly was telling him. The man was gentle and kind in his words, not hiding anything from John, but only half of what he was saying was sinking in… he knew something about cow prods and birds, and his son couldn't remember things one moment to the next.

"I have to see Sammy," John announced, getting to his feet suddenly.

Westerly hesitated.

"John," he began, uncertainty tainting his voice. He went from the competent doctor to a man desperate to see father and son reunited but knowing there was nothing to be done about it yet.

"You've got to be kidding me!" John exploded again. "They take my boys away from me, wont let me see my son in ICU and then they put him in some group home to be beaten by some sadistic asshole just to wind up back in the hospital… all this not long after major surgery and they still wont let me see him? What the hell kind of a person would put a five year old through all of that when there's no reason! He's just a kid!"

"John, I know…" Westerly tried, looking to Jim for help.

Jim had been lost for words, but he jumped in as soon as Westerly's eyes pleaded with him for help.

"John," Jim began, unsure of what to say to his friend but knowing he would have to come up with something. "You have to calm down now, okay? Whatever is happening with Sammy right now, West is taking care of him and he's safe… this whole thing is ridiculous and you'll get the chance to tell a judge that in two weeks, but right now the best thing you can do for Sammy – and Dean – is to not give yourself a heart attack."

John sighed and sank back down onto the bed, suddenly feeling exhaustion hitting his aching and sore body.

"You're taking care of him?" John asked, glancing at Westerly.

"Yes," he assured him. "I promise you, I'm by his side at all times… he's not waking up alone, John."

"What happens next?" John asked.

"He'll be in hospital about a week, and then he'll be in a home with a lady that is a personal friend of Miss Rose's…"

"With Dean?" John asked, knowing that Dean was also with Miss Rose's friend and hoping his boys would at least have each other.

"No, but he wont be far from Dean from what I've been told," Westerly assured him. "Miss Rose checked in with Dean just the other day, actually… he's a lot happier, getting along with the lady taking care of him really well and talking more than before too. Mostly when he's asked a question, I think, but he's apparently got more bounce in his step."

"Good," John sighed, relieved to hear that at least his eldest was okay. "And Sammy's going to a good place too?"

"I'm meeting the lady in a couple of days, I'll know more then…"

SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

_**Present Day**_

John's heart hammered in his chest again as he thought over his conversation with Westerly from that night. Sammy with a serious concussion, short term memory loss… battered and bruised in a hospital and no one had explained what exactly had happened to his boy. He wanted to see him, wanted to know if he was okay. John knew that Sammy had been released from hospital and sent home with a lady named Josephine Waters, but no one would say anything more than that. It seemed to him that he had a right to know what had happened to his boy, but apparently the CPS disagreed.

He glanced at his watch. Fifteen minutes to go…

SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

Dean, fully dressed in a pair of black slacks and a nice shirt that Sandy had bought for him just for the occasion, was combing his hair. He wriggled uncomfortably, not used to wearing clothes like this and wishing he could go in jeans and a pair of boots instead of the most uncomfortable shiny black shoes he had ever seen.

"Here you go," Sandy announced proudly from the doorway as she stood smiling down at the boy she had taken care of for all but four days of his time away from his father. Those four days had been with the Castle family, and she had heard about them from other foster parents that were almost certain there was something wrong in that house. Still, nobody had been able to prove it until… "This should finish that outfit off really nicely."

Dean glanced at her in the mirror. Sandy was grinning at him, full of excitement for the big day… and she was holding a black jacket in her hands.

Dean groaned and rolled his eyes.

"Dad hasn't seen me in a while," Dean reminded her. "What if he doesn't recognise me in this stuff?"

"Dean," Sandy chuckled, hanging the jacket from a hook on the door and heading toward him. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders, squeezing him reassuringly before planting a kiss on the top of his head and finally turning him to see her. "Your dad would recognise you from a hundred yards on a cloudy day, I bet… a jacket and shiny shoes is not going to change that."

Dean grinned. She was right, of course, Dean thought. Dad'll recognise me… but…

"What about Sammy?" Dean gasped. "Sammy might not recognise me!"

Sandy chuckled.

"You nervous about today?" she asked gently. Dean hesitated a moment before nodding. "Dean, everything's going to be fine, okay? Your dad is going to be there, Sammy's going to be there and everyone's going to be okay… I don't want you worrying about this, okay? I want you to relax and find that big, Dean Winchester smile so that when your Dad sees you, he knows how happy you are to be there okay?"

Dean nodded again, but felt too numb to smile. Things had been so wrong for so long, he wasn't sure he could deal with another disappointment.

"You and Sammy are going to be going home with your daddy tonight, I'm sure of that," Sandy assured him. "And I bet that he's gonna let you pick whatever you want for dinner, too!"

"Pizza?" Dean asked, as if Sandy were the one with the authority to say yes or no.

"I don't know, does your dad like pizza?"

"I think so…"

"You think so?"

"Well," Dean bit his lip and looked away, tears shining in his eyes before he finally answered. "I haven't seen him in a while, what if he's different?"

"He will be different," Sandy agreed carefully. "He'll be happier than you've ever seen him, and relieved to have you back… trust me…"

"Sammy might not like pizza," Dean murmured. "He might have forgotten…"

"Huh?" Sandy asked, seriously confused. Only Dean could confuse her like this.

"He got hit, remember? What if he doesn't remember me? Or that he likes pizza?"

"Dean, did he remember you on the phone? When you talked to him in the hospital?" Sandy asked. Dean nodded. "Somehow I thought he would… you're not someone that anyone would be able to forget and certainly not in a hurry...""

Dean saw tears glisten in Sandy's eyes.

"What's wrong?" he asked her, concerned. "Did I do something wrong?"

Sandy shook her head hurriedly.

"No, not at all," she assured him. "You were wonderful, Dean, you are wonderful… I'm just… I'm going to miss you, that's all…"

SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

Sammy was dressed in the nice pants and shirt that Josephine had bought him, his too-long hair had been brushed back from his face. He was sitting on the bed that had been his for the passed week… well, his and Chester's, at least. He didn't mind sharing, though, the dog had refused to leave his side the whole time. He had even sat outside the bathroom door and huffed as he waited impatiently for the boy to do his business and have a shower.

Now the young boy was sitting on the bed with Chester, stroking his silking coat absent-mindedly, a sad and tearful expression on his face.

"Hey Sam, you ready to go?" Josephine called from the dining room just up the hall from Sammy's bedroom. When Sammy didn't answer, she went looking for him and wanted to cry when she saw Sammy staring down at Chester with tears streaming down his cheeks, Chester's head resting on Sammy's knee with the most pitiful sad puppy dog eyes she had ever seen. "Oh, Sam… what's wrong? Aren't you excited? You're going to see your dad today!"

Sammy nodded and sniffed at the same time, a complete contradiction in terms.

"What's wrong?" she asked, squatting down in front of the young boy.

"I'm gonna miss you," Sammy whimpered, tearing his eyes from Chester long enough to look at Josephine. "And I'm gonna miss Chester! I wish you could come with me!"

"Oh, Sammy…" Josephine moaned, a sadness deep in her own chest as she scooped the little boy into her arms and held him gently. She knew he was still sore from everything he had been through and she worried all the time about hurting him. He seemed so fragile – except when he was playing rough and tumble with Chester, of course, but that came at a price. "I'm going to miss you too! But you know what? You're going to go home with your dad tonight, and you're going to be with your brother… and you are always, ALWAYS welcome here… okay?"

Sammy nodded but didn't feel any better about losing his new friends. He didn't remember his mom, but he was almost certain that she was like Josephine – kind, loving, caring, with a smile that could light up every room in the house. He had seen some photos and he knew Josephine didn't look anything like his mom, Mary Winchester had truly been something special… but Josephine had made it feel like Sammy had had a mom, at least for a little while. After everything else that had happened since being taken away from his dad, she had made Sammy smile again.

"Come on, kid, we have to go," Josephine announced. "You got your game face on?"

Sammy grinned through his tears, remembering that Josephine had reminded him that his dad would want to know he was happy, and that he was excited to be able to see him again.

"Righto, Slugger, let's get going!" Josephine grinned, following Sammy to the front door. Chester tried to sneak out with them but she held him back. "Sorry, old boy, not this time…"

With a sad look and an unhappy huff, Chester laid down on the mat inside the door to wait. Sammy glanced back, realised that Chester wasn't coming and raced back to see him. He buried his face in the dogs soft coat and sobbed to him a moment, whispering quiet promises in his ear that he'd visit.

Chester wasn't so sure as he watched sadly through the closed wood door as if he could still see the little boy he loved so much driving away…

SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

"John Winchester?" a man in a uniform called. John, Bobby, Jim and Westerly all got to their feet and followed the man into the room. He indicated seats along one side of the table and the four nervous men made their way to their seat. The air was thick with tension, so thick John wasn't sure he was going to be able to speak during the process since he could barely breathe.

"Relax John, it'll be okay," Jim assured him.

John nodded and set his jaw firmly, but he wasn't convinced that Jim was right. So many things could still go wrong… he pulled the yellow envelope from his coat pocket and laid it on the table in front of him. Jim eyed him suspiciously, but said nothing.

John Winchester's hands were shaking as he ran them through his carefully combed hair and finally rested them on top of the envelope. He wanted to be able to grab his sons the minute he saw them and hug them to him fiercely but he knew that wasn't allowed.

He just hoped he'd be able to keep swallowing the tears that had been threatening to spill over all morning.

"When's the judge getting here?" Bobby asked.

John had been wondering the same thing, but he didn't have the voice to ask the question himself.

"The judge wont arrive until…" Jim's voice faded as he indicated the door opposite the one they had come in through. The same man that had led them to their seats was now letting in more people… Miss Dogden…

John tensed and immediately felt Jim's hand on his arm as a gentle reminder to stay calm. They had had a long talk earlier that morning…

Three hours earlier 

Jim stood back and watched as Bobby and John adjusted their ties and squirmed uncomfortably in their jackets. Hunters weren't normally given to wearing 'monkey suits' as Bobby had growled about earlier in the day, but these particular hunters were different… special… they would do anything they had to to get the beloved Winchester Boys back safely under John's care.

"Now, remember, John," Jim began, eliciting a glare from the man as Jim's voice was merely a reminder to him that Jim didn't have to wear a suit as a pastor. He chuckled in spite of himself, but forced a seriousness into his voice to get his point across. "Whatever happens in there, whatever is said – whether it's true or not – you have to stay calm, okay? I know you want to throttle that woman, but you have to stay calm. No shouting, no yelling, and try not to be too visible with whatever you're feeling. Feel free to smile at your boys, get emotional, whatever… but do NOT express any of your anger okay?"

"What about when I give my statement?" John asked, gritting his teeth and he pulled his tie off for the eighth time.

"Feel free to say 'I was angry when…', or something to that effect, but don't raise your voice and no hunters language," Jim instructed. "Nothing that you wouldn't say to your own mother."

"What hunters language?" John asked.

"Yeah," Bobby added, eyeing the pastor carefully.

Jim chuckled again.

"You hunters aren't exactly the most polite creatures I've ever come across," Jim responded innocently, his tone knowing. "Just watch the language, boys, okay? If you feel yourself getting angry, try closing your eyes and counting to ten… if it's during your testimony or the judge is asking you a question, then keep your eyes open and count quickly, okay?"

SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

_**Present**_

Miss Dogden sat in the seat directly across from John and smiled at him. John looked down at his hands and closed his eyes, counting to ten slowly since he knew he had time. When he finally opened his eyes he glanced at the woman sitting next to Miss Dogden. He wasn't sure who that was and glanced at Jim.

Jim shrugged, but a voice from further down the table answered their question.

"Miss Rose, nice to see you again," Westerly spoke up, offering the lady a smile. She smiled warmly back at him.

"Nice to see you, doctor," she agreed. "How's the patient?"

"He's doing just fine," Westerly assured her. "I checked up on him last night, he's looking a lot better…"

"Good," Miss Rose nodded. She turned away from Westerly and gazed at the file in front of her. John had a feeling that there was something on the woman's mind, but he couldn't swear to it. Somehow she was managing to block his usual ability to read the people around him.

He wasn't sure he trusted her.

The door behind the judges seat opened and a woman in a nice business suit walked in. She had dark skin, dark curly hair that she kept cropped short, and the brownest eyes John had ever seen. He imagined that when she smiled or laughed they would light up and sparkle, but right now they seemed cold and angry. She sat down, followed by a woman sitting at a seat that had a tiny typewriter… John had seen people like her in the movies, she was some sort of scribe who would take down every word that was said.

"Welcome one and all, my name is Judge Bridges," she greeted them. "I wish we could be meeting under better circumstances, but I guess this will have to do… now, first of all I would like to say that any case of child abuse is disturbing to say the least, and if it weren't for the fact that I am trying to help abused kids, I would really hate my job… I deal with people day in and day out that can only be described as the scum of the earth…"

She glared at no one in particular, but John swallowed a guilt that he didn't know he carried. He had a terrible feeling that this case was already going badly.

"Now, I've read testimony's from numerous people from this table, reports of different types – including one extremely hard to read police report that I would have been happier going the rest of my life without ever having read – and I must say, I'm already disturbed about what I see happening here…" Bridges announced. John grimaced inwardly, knowing that the hard to read police report must have been about Sammy. He swallowed again, feeling the tears building up at the back of his throat with the bile that had insisted on sitting there painfully. "I'll get to all of that, but first I'm going to say one more thing."

Bridges took a deep breath, still not looking at anyone in particular when she continued.

"Abuse of ANY kind is incomprehensible to me," she announced, anger clear in her voice. "And the behaviour of some of the people at this table is inexcusable!"

She released the remainder of her breath and visibly composed herself.

"I'll have more to say on the matter soon enough," she announced. "I'd like to hear from our witness… Miss Dogden, I believe you have the individual who put in the original complaint here?"

Miss Dogden nodded and threw a glance at John. That smile again…

"Good, I'll hear from him first…"

John glanced at Jim as if his face held all the answers, but it didn't and he wasn't sure what he had expected…

…except to say that the person who walked through that door hadn't been on his list of possibilities.

Anger threatened to overwhelm him and he felt Jim's hand on his arm again, grateful for his friends calming presence but still wishing he could…

"Game face, John," Jim hissed at him softly. "Count to ten…"

One… two… three… John wasn't sure he would make it to ten before launching himself across the table… five… six… seven… Pain filled John's chest as he fought for composure… eight… nine… he gave up fighting for composure and instead fought to be able to hide his anger.

Ten.

**SUPERNATURAL**

**A/N – Okay a little shorter than normal, but it only took me a little over an hour and you got another chapter to read while I work on the next one! There will be some surprises, some explosions… and… well, you'll have to read on to see… well, I guess I'll have to keep writing first, but after the writing comes the reading and hopefully, after the reading comes…**

**Reviews!**


	11. Chapter 11

A big thank you to RedDragon for your latest review! Your words of encouragement meant a lot to me, I'm glad you think I'm handling this story well. I have to admit, it's taken off in many ways that I hadn't expected, but it's felt important to run with it. It's awful what some people do to others – especially to children – and yet sometimes the system can get it so wrong. It's been a very draining story to write, but the wonderful reviews have made it a little easier since there have been a few people telling me their own stories and it's driven me to continue since its an important subject. And your words of encouragement have come a little over half way through writing this chapter, which has also been very difficult to write, and it's really given me the extra shove to be able to keep it going. Thank you so much for the support!

A/N – I could have broken this down to more than one chapter, but I couldn't stand to stop it. It needed to be one long one so consider yourselves spoiled and enjoy the long update! I have a doctors appointment soon, so the next chapter wont be up quite as fast as this one, but hopefully will still be able to get another out today. Gotta go see my baby squirming around on the ultrasound, though, and have dinner plans tonight, but maybe my fingers will be superhuman again and get out another chapter somehow. Meanwhile, hungry!!! Must eat!!! Enjoy this chapter!

Disclaimer: They're not mine, nothing changed over night and I still don't get paid to do this.

**Chapter Eleven**

**Statements of truth or lies?**

"My name is Abe Sinclair," the weasel of a man announced for the record, shooting a grin at John.

"And you put the call in to Child Protective Services?" Bridges asked, jotting down her own notes as he spoke. "Why?"

"Well, ma'am, I met John Winchester in the woods that night and to be honest he scared the hell out of me… he was waving guns around like a madman and threatened to… well, I wont repeat his exact words but I'm pretty sure they all amount to the same thing… I was in fear of my life!" Abe began dramatically, waving his hands around to add to the effect. He held up one shaking hand to emphasise his point. "I still can't stop shaking when I think about it…"

"What were you doing in the woods, Mr Sinclair?" Bridges asked, ignoring his dramatics.

John was counting again, but he refused to take his eyes off the man seated in the witness seat.

"I was hunting a grizzly, ma'am," Abe told her. "Anyway, Mr Winchester told me that he was going to kill me because I had set a few traps in the woods and his boys were out here with him… at first I thought they were teenagers, you know, at least old enough to be out on their own but then I found out they weren't! I was afraid for those boys, ma'am… one of them was real sick and the other had fallen into one of my traps and got hurt… but John – Mr Winchester, he didn't seem that bothered."

"What did you observe of his overall demeanour?"

"He was angry and violent, and to be honest with you I wasn't just afraid for MY life, I was afraid for the lives of those two boys," Abe continued, his voice so high now it was barely a squeak. He's enjoying this, John thought angrily. He began counting again. "Mr Winchester made me go to the hospital and since he had the gun I was too scared to say no, so I went with them. He was holding me against my will, judge!"

"Why didn't you report it to the police if that were the case?"

"Because I was more worried for those boys than me, I didn't want him to be able to hurt them again," Abe answered. "I called the CPS and explained what I'd seen and they said they'd sort him out and that I wasn't to worry, but to keep myself available. She said…"

"Who said?"

"Miss Dogden," Abe told her. "She said that men like John Winchester didn't deserve children and she'd see to it that these boys were protected from him and he'd never be able to hurt them again."

Judge Bridges nodded and scribbled some notes before looking up again.

"Is that all, Mr Sinclair?" she asked him, her tone less tolerant than John had expected from a Judge when talking to the eyewitness. He wondered if Abe annoyed her as much as he annoyed John.

"I just want to say that those boys aren't safe with a man like that, judge," Abe told her. "You can't let him take them back, they could wind up dead next time…"

"I have just a couple of questions, Mr Sinclair," Bridges interrupted him. Abe sat back in his seat smugly, waiting. "This trap that Samuel Winchester fell into was one of yours, am I correct?"

"Yes ma'am."

"What kind of a trap was it?" she asked.

"I'm sorry?"

You will be, John thought angrily. One… two… three…

"What kind of trap was it?" Bridges repeated, slowing the question in case the simple man didn't understand.

"Well, it was a pit, ma'am."

"A pit."

"Yes ma'am."

"Tell me about this pit…"

"It was basically a big hole…"

"How deep?"

"How deep?"

"Yes, Mr Sinclair, how deep?" Bridges was growing frustrated and John took pleasure in imagining what she might like to see happen to Abe Sinclair. John wondered whether some of the more creative ones were from his mind or hers…

"Fifteen feet, ma'am."

"You dug a fifteen foot hole in the middle of a pathway in the woods… to trap a grizzly?"

Abe nodded.

"Mr Sinclair, my daddy was a hunter right up until he died… his daddy before him, and his before him… I have even been known to enjoy a good hunt on occasion…" Bridges told him. "Are you aware that there are no grizzly in those woods? And that digging a fifteen foot hole isn't how you trap a grizzly even if there was one to trap?"

Abe swallowed hard, clearly becoming nervous.

"No, ma'am… I just… I devised my own traps, this wasn't a standard grizzly hunt… I was trying out different methods… I was trying to… trying…"

"You were what, Mr Sinclair?"

"I thought if I devised a new trapping system then I might be able to patent it and make…"

"Make what? A fortune?" Bridges asked him, leaning over her desk to get a closer look at the pathetic excuse of a man before her. "Mr Sinclair, how much is a five year olds life worth to you?"

Abe opened his mouth but was unable to speak.

"What about his ability to walk? Or to chew his own food?"

Still no response.

"How much of your fortune would you have been willing to pay to Samuel Winchester to cover his medical bills and compensation if he'd lost the ability to feed himself?" Bridges continued, growing angry. "What about to the boys father if he had died? Or to his brother?"

Nothing.

"You dug a fifteen foot hole, Mr Sinclair, and it nearly got a little boy killed! Do you think that that might account for the nasty temper you witnessed on the boys father? How about the concussion he himself was suffering from what I've read in my reports… did you consider that he was having a really bad night and maybe was scared for his son's life? And what the hell kind of responsibility do you take on your own shoulders for the injuries this boy sustained?"

Abe's jaw dropped.

"Well…" he hesitated. Finally he pointed an accusing finger at John and raised his voice like a whiny two year old. "They're his kids! He's the one who should be responsible!"

"Responsible for some things, Mr Sinclair, but your trap was not one of them," Bridges told him. "You're dismissed… and Mr Sinclair? Next time something like this comes up, I'll be sure to request the case so I can see how else you've screwed up… you never know, next time you might just kill somebody. Wont that be fun?"

John nearly laughed out loud when John saw the man's face – he didn't know that a weasel could turn such a peculiar shade of red.

"Mr Winchester, I do have some questions for you before we continue," Bridges announced. She turned in her seat to look closer at John. "What were you doing in the woods that night?"

"We're new to the town, Judge, and I… well, I got lost when I took the boys out to find some dinner. Dean had a nasty cold, so I had them rugged up in the backseat and was hoping to find him some chicken soup because when… well…" John hesitated, trying to swallow the painful lump rising in the back of his throat. He was bending the truth, but there were still elements of fact in his story and it was more than enough to bring tears to his eyes. "When my wife was alive, she always made him chicken soup when he was sick… sometimes if he was upset about something she'd make it for him. It seemed to work, and I thought if I could find some chicken soup he might feel better and feel like…"

"Feel like his mother was still around?" Bridges supplied.

John nodded, brushing a single tear from his eye that he couldn't stop slipping over.

"So how did you come to be in the woods?" Bridges asked, her tone becoming strong again. She wasn't done with him and hadn't made up her mind about whether he was abusing his boys or not, John knew that. But he felt like he had reached her on some level and took a deep breath to be able to steady himself to continue.

"Well, I managed to take a wrong turn somewhere along the way and found myself in the middle of nowhere. My car stopped and I couldn't get it started… I still don't know what was wrong with it because it started again later when I had to get the boys to the hospital," John told her, forcing a tone of confusion and relief into his voice. "I thought I saw a light in the woods and wondered if someone lived out there, so I got out to see if I could get help. I told the boys to stay in the car and keep warm… I didn't think I'd be gone very long."

"The guns?"

"Well, Judge, I have to admit that I was a little weary of going in there. I've hunted a little myself, but I knew better than to go into woods I knew nothing about without anything to protect myself, so I grabbed my hunting rifle out of the trunk – I hadn't unpacked yet, but it was secure," John assured her.

"What were the boys doing while you were gone?"

"Well, Dean was trying to go to sleep, and Sammy…" John smiled, remembering his little boys fascination over the book that drove Dean crazy. "Well, Sammy was reading a book… loudly… over and over again."

"What book was it?"

"Little Red Riding Hood," John told her. "I'd bought it for him a week before and he loved it. He insisted Dean read it to him and then he insisted on reading it to himself… a lot…"

"How do you think they got out of the car?"

"I don't know," John admitted. "I think they were getting worried about me and came looking for me. They're brave boys, and I think they thought I might have gotten hurt… when I got back…"

"I can imagine…" Bridges told him. She took a deep breath and glanced at Miss Dogden. "I would like to hear from you now, Miss Dogden."

"Well, Judge," Miss Dogden smiled at her, sweetening her tone in a way that John hadn't thought her capable. "In my investigation I have discovered that John Winchester had a history of violence. I looked back as far as I could go, and there was some question about his relationship with Mary Winchester."

"Suggestions of abuse?"

"Nothing substantiated, Judge."

John gritten his teeth and began counting again.

"Go on…"

"Well, since her death approximately five years ago, John's behaviour has become erratic at best. He hasn't been in one place longer than a month. The older boy, Dean, has been moved from one school to he next, never in one place very long at all… and the younger boy, Sam, hasn't even started school yet! It's December, he should have been in school by now!" Miss Dogden sounded horrified at the thought of the boys not being in school, as if that was worse than anything else that could ever have happened. John wondered what she thought about what his boys had suffered because of her, because she had taken them away. "I haven't found any clear cases of abuse, but plenty to suggest serious neglect. They were reported to have been left alone on numerous occasions. They spent more time with one Jim Murphy than is appropriate, and some of the people John Winchester has been known to associate with are, to say the least, unsavoury."

"Un… savoury…" Bridges sighed, disbelief in her tone.

"Judge, I believed there was just cause in relieving him of his parental rights, at least long enough to make sure these boys are safe. I would not recommend returning them to his care until I can be satisfied that they will be safe and well taken care of."

"Miss Dogden, who is Jim Murphy?"

"The man sitting to Mr Winchester's side, Judge," Miss Dogden announced.

Bridges turned to him.

"You a priest?" she asked.

"Pastor, Judge," Jim answered her. "I've known the boys since, well… seems like forever."

"And you take care of them sometimes?" Bridges asked him.

"Yes, when John's had to go away for work or something… I try and help out where I can, they're like family to me," Jim explained. "John's had a rough time since losing Mary, but he's had support around him all the time and so have the boys. They've never been alone, they've always had somewhere to go."

"The boys?"

"The whole family, Judge… I take them in whenever I can. The boys quite often spend summers with me and John's usually there too."

"I see," Bridges replied, turning back to Miss Dogden. "I don't see how that's any different to children going to see their grandparents for the summer, Miss Dogden. Do you?"

"Well…"

"Do you have reason to believe that they weren't safe at Pastor Murphy's home?"

"Judge, he's a… he's a… priest!" Miss Dogden announced as if it was the greatest sin of all. "You know what they're like!"

"Do I?" Bridges asked. "Miss Dogden, though there are some out there who are the… unsavoury types and use their influence to abuse and take advantage of children, that doesn't mean they're all like that. You cannot judge the many because of the actions of a few, and that is a very serious accusation to make… these boys and their father had somewhere safe to go, someone to care for them and support them, someone to help a single father trying to figure things out. I see no reason to think anything else, and unless you have some actual evidence to the fact I would suggest you start telling me something else very quickly because I will not have you sit there and defame the nature of this man."

Miss Dogden sighed and shook her head, lost for words.

"Fine then, I have some questions of my own," Bridges announced. "I have some reports here that have me concerned… did you, while Samuel Winchester was in the ICU, tell him that you were going to put his father in jail for child abuse?"

Miss Dogden gasped, glancing quickly at Miss Rose beside her. Miss Rose had a tiny smile on her face but she quickly turned serious and waited for the answer.

"I told him that if I found out John Winchester was hurting them, that I would make sure he was punished for it…"

"I see," Bridges muttered. "You think it was an appropriate conversation to have with a scared, lonely and seriously injured five year old?"

Miss Dogden didn't respond.

"I agree, Miss Dogden, you had no right to say that to him… are you aware that, according to the medical report I have here from one Doctor Westerly, that the boy was in serious condition after suffering internal bleeding and a punctured lung? That when you left he was so distressed that he couldn't breathe and had to be put on oxygen and sedated?" Bridges asked, reading directly from Westerly's report. "And are you aware of the damage that could have done given his various injuries? He could have pulled his stitches, he could have put so much strain on his lungs that he may have required further surgery? Are you aware that a patient in ICU is supposed to be kept calm?"

Miss Dogden still had nothing to say.

"Given your behaviour in this matter, Miss Dogden, I was tempted to throw the case out immediately. I think you were on some kind of a witch hunt, that you were out for blood and John Winchester got in the way… you put this family through hell, and the boys suffered even more because of the homes you put them in… but there was a complaint of neglect and I had to take that seriously regardless of what I thought of you," Bridges explained carefully. "However, I am putting a report in to your department suggesting that you be removed from any authority over such cases in the future. I believe your history has clouded your judgement."

"M-my history?" Miss Dogden gasped.

"Yes, I know all about your history, and it's sad and tragic… but it doesn't mean that all fathers are like that. Some father's really do love their children. Look at the man sitting across from you… now, I haven't made up my mind about what I'm doing here, but you look into his eyes and tell me what you really think is the right thing to do…"

Miss Dogden glanced over at John and hesitated. John wanted to glare at her, to tell her what a bitch she was, how she hurt his boys, how she hurt him, how she hurt the myriad of children she was supposed to be there to protect, but he didn't. He just held her gaze and hoped she could read his pain herself…

The look on her face as she tore her eyes away told him that she knew exactly what he was feeling. He wasn't sure she looked remorseful, but she knew how he felt about his boys and that was enough for him.

For now…

"Miss Rose, under your own investigation, what have you discovered?" Bridges asked.

"I have found that most of what Miss Dogden has reported is true," Miss Rose responded, looking straight at the judge. John looked at her, his heart racing. She was going to agree with the bitch that took his family from him? She was supposed to be on their side! Miss Rose opened the file before her. "John Winchester was a marine, a model soldier by all accounts. He has an exemplary record… he retired when his wife fell pregnant with Dean and started his own business as a mechanic. Seems he's pretty handy to have around, several people from his home town remember him stopping to help them when their cars broke down and he never charged them. One Mrs Lily Baker recalled that he had towed her car for her to his shop and repaired the damage for free."

"Pretty woman, Mr Winchester?" Bridges asked suspiciously.

"Maybe once, Judge, but at the time she was in her seventies and recently widowed. She had broken down on the side of the road in a particularly nasty storm… she couldn't afford the repairs, so I took care of it for her… she took care of Dean and helped Mary out a lot in the beginning as payment."

"You made her take care of your family?"

"No Judge, she insisted… Mary was a new mother and she had had a particularly difficult labour… the doctors weren't even sure we'd be able to have any more children."

"But then you had Sam," Bridges grinned.

"Yes ma'am," John announced proudly.

"Mr Winchester left the town not long after his wife died in a house fire… he took the boys and left. I lost track of him for some time, but about a year later Dean was starting school. John had several different jobs, a trail of motel rooms… it was a difficult situation and not the best for children to be brought up in… I found no reason to believe there was any violence, any abuse and as for the neglect I feel that this was more of a case of a husband having lost his wife… a father who was desperately trying to find his feet again and figure out how to raise a young, traumatised family on his own."

Bridges nodded, turning to John. John's eyes had once again filled with tears and he wished he could blink them away but it just wasn't working.

"Mr Winchester? What can you tell me about that time?" she asked.

"I was just trying to figure things out day to day, Judge," John told her. "I really don't know what else to say. I tried to do the best for the boys, I always have… I worked, they had food and clothing, and Jim Murphy was a huge help, especially in those days. They never lacked anything they needed and they were always healthy… I made some mistakes, I know that, but I'm figuring it out and… well, Judge, I thought my world had fallen apart when I lost my Mary, and I really struggled to take care of the boys in Lawrence. And then, one day, Dean came to get me and dragged me into Sammy's room. While I held my oldest boy and looked down at my youngest I remembered that night so clearly that I couldn't breathe… I thought I was going to die right there… and then…"

John blinked.

"What happened?" Bridges asked.

John could feel Jim's hand on his arm. He tried to concentrate on it as his breath tightened in his chest.

"Sammy smiled up at me," John told her, finally able to speak again. "And he laughed… he reached up to me like he wanted me to pick him up and he just… he seemed so happy to see me and I realised that I couldn't afford to fall apart. But if we'd stayed in Lawrence I knew I would… and Dean was so sad all the time, so I decided we had to leave. I didn't know where we would go, but…"

Bridges sighed and caught the eye of the man standing guard at the door.

"Normally I would ask to hear from your friends there, Mr Winchester, but I've read their statements and I think I'm satisfied for right now what they would tell me… so instead I think we'll move right along," she announced, nodding to the man at the door. He opened the door.

"Dean Winchester please," the man called.

John's heart caught in his throat as he looked up, glancing at the door desperate to catch any glimpse of Dean that he could see. When his son walked in the door, his face bright with that megawatt smile that John had missed for so long, John felt tears slip down his cheeks. He wanted to run to him, to pick him up and tell him how much he'd missed him but he restrained himself.

Dean sat in the witness seat and grinned at his dad. Dean could see the excitement coursing through his son's body and knew that he wanted to run to John as much as John wanted to run to Dean.

"Hi Dad," Dean greeted him, his voice catching. John closed his eyes briefly as more tears slipped down his cheeks and he brushed them away quickly.

"Hey son," John smiled warmly. "Good to see you…"

Dean's smile widened, his eyes brightened as his own tears matched John's. Dean wiped them away in true Winchester fashion, but he didn't take his eyes from his father.

"Dean, my name is Nancy Bridges, I'm a judge, do you know what that means?" Bridges asked Dean, her tone gentle.

Dean nodded, facing her – though John couldn't help but notice that his eyes kept shifting back to settle on him as if making sure that his father wasn't going to disappear.

"Yes ma'am," Dean assured her. "It means that you're going to decide whether I get to go home with my Dad tonight and that I shouldn't lie… Sandy explained it to me."

"Is that your foster mother?" Bridges asked.

"No ma'am, she's the lady that's been taking care of me," Dean told her. "She's my friend."

John grinned, understanding that Dean would never give the title of mother to anyone but his own.

"Do you like Sandy?" Bridges asked, easing Dean into the questions gently.

"Yes, ma'am," Dean told her. "She's really nice… not like the other family I stayed with. They were really strange and the man wouldn't let me sleep."

John tensed, realising that that must have been why Dean had been moved. He had been told Dean had been placed in a different home, but none of the reasons why had been revealed to him.

"Why not?" Bridges asked him.

Dean looked sad.

"I didn't wanna talk," Dean explained. "I tried, but every time I felt like I was going to choke or something."

"You were worried and scared?"

Dean nodded.

"I wanted to be with my dad, and my little brother was really sick… but they thought I was just being rude, they didn't understand that I couldn't talk and they made me sit up all night! I wasn't allowed to go to the toilet of go to bed until I talked!"

"And did you?"

"I couldn't…"

Dean sniffed. John wanted to wrap him up in his arms and hold him tight, to tell him that it was okay and that nothing like that would ever happen again, but he knew that for right now all he could do was sit and listen.

"It's okay now," Bridges assured him. "You're talking now, though… how do you feel?"

"Better," Dean admitted. "Sandy's friend, Miss Rose, came and got me from that house and let me stay with Sandy… and then she let me talk to Sammy when he was in the hospital again…"

"You know what happened to your brother?" Bridges asked, concern etching her face.

"Not really, just that he got hurt," Dean said. "But he's staying with Sandy's friend, Josephine, and he's real happy there. They have a dog."

"That's great," Bridges told him. "Now, can we talk a little about what happened the night Sam got hurt?"

Dean nodded.

"We were in the car and we fell asleep. I thought I heard my dad calling for help, so we went to find him. But there was something out there, something real scary and it was chasing us… I made Sammy run up ahead so I could protect him, but he fell in the big hole," Dean's lower lip quivered at the memory and John knew he was reliving it. "He was hurt real bad, and I climbed down to get to him."

"Is that how you hurt your arm?"

"Yes, it could caught in some rocks… I had twelve stitches," Dean explained. "But I thought Sammy was going to die. I tried to keep him warm, but he kept shivering… and his tummy was real hard… and he was breathing really bad… I tried to find his book to read to him, but it was dark and I couldn't find it… and then he started to cry and said he didn't want to hear the story anymore because the wolf would get him, so I just talked to him instead… until Dad came and found us."

"That's good, Dean," Bridges told him. "You did really well today… and you did really well taking care of your brother like that…"

"That's my job," Dean sniffed. "He's my baby brother, I have to watch out for him…"

"He's very lucky to have you," Bridges agreed. "Is there anything you want to say before you go? What would you like to tell me about your dad, for example?"

Dean smiled and beamed through his tears at his father.

"My dad's a hero," Dean announced proudly. John grinned, never having heard Dean say anything like that about him before. "He's real strong and he always takes care of us. I fell off my bike once and skinned my knee, it hurt really bad and Dad just picked me up like I didn't weigh a thing and took me inside and fixed my knee! It hardly hurt at all after that… my dad's… my dad's…"

"It's okay, Dean, take your time," Bridges told him.

"My dad's the best dad in the world," Dean sobbed, fighting for composure. "He protects us from everything and he's always there when we need him. Sammy has nightmares sometimes, and Dad always makes it better… because nothing can hurt us if he's around. He's like superman or something…"

John wiped the now free flowing tears from his eyes, uncertain as to whether he could stand much more of this hearing. He had never realised what his oldest son had thought of him and now that he heard it he wasn't sure his heart could cope with the love that he felt coming from across the table.

"I love my Dad and I've missed him heaps," Dean said, his voice lower this time. "I just wanna go home…"

"Why don't you go and wait outside, Dean," Bridges told him, gently. "You did really great…"

Dean nodded and grinned at his dad before climbing off his chair and heading for the door. John didn't take his eyes off his son for a second until he was through the door and it was closed behind him.

"Mr Winchester, that's one hell of a kid you have there," Bridges told him. "Aside from losing his mother and everything that he's gone through these passed several weeks, he seems very articulate, very well adjusted… I don't think I've seen such strength and honesty in someone his age before."

John grinned, pride filling his chest.

"Dean's special, that's for sure," he admitted. "I would swear that he wasn't nine if it weren't for the fact that I was there when he was born…"

"They grow up fast, don't they…"

"Too fast," John admitted. "But if you wanna see honest, you should meet Sammy…"

Bridges smiled at John, his eagerness to show off his boys catching her attention. She nodded to the man by the door.

"Samuel Winchester," the man called.

John's eyes were once again glued to the door, waiting for that first glimpse of his son. When Sammy walked through the door, John gasped at the bruises that were still healing on his son's face. Sammy was walking stiffly, obviously still in pain, and John wished he could have something to hunt, something to shoot, something to pay revenge to for what had been done to his baby.

"Oh my God," John whispered.

"Jesus," Jim added.

"Holy shit!" Bobby stated.

Westerly remained quiet. John knew he had tried to explain the extent of Sammy's injuries, but John had had no idea…

He turned to Miss Dogden, seeing her mouth ajar as well and instantly knew that she hadn't bothered to check up on him since he'd been taken to the hospital.

"What did you do?" John demanded, glaring at her, a hatred more fierce than anything else he had ever felt. He tried to keep his voice low so he wouldn't upset Sammy, but he had to fight hard to keep from launching himself across the table at the woman who had taken his baby from him.

"Daddy!" Sammy cried when he caught sight of his father. Sammy ran to his father and threw himself into John's arms, burrowing his face in his neck and clinging to him fiercely. John held him as tight as he dared and cried into his little boys shoulder.

"It's okay, Sammy," he told him, choking back his tears. "You're okay…"

"Mr Winchester," Bridges spoke up gently. "Do we need to take a minute?"

John shook his head. He didn't want to drag this out any longer than it had to be, for Sammy's sake. He pulled Sammy awake and looked at him carefully.

"Are you okay?" John asked him.

Sammy nodded, though his bottom lip trembled and his eyes filled with tears.

"See this nice lady right here?" John indicated Bridges. Sammy glanced at her and nodded. "She's a judge and she's going to ask you some questions, okay?"

Sammy nodded.

"So, I need you to sit over there and…"

Sammy shook his head and clung to his father tighter, refusing to let go.

"Mr Winchester, maybe we should just take a break," Bridges suggested.

"It's okay," John assured her, getting to his feet and gently carrying his little boy to the witness chair. He carefully deposited him in the seat and pulled his arms from around his neck and laying them gently in Sammy's lap. "Now, I need for you to sit here and talk to this nice lady… don't worry about anyone else here, okay?"

"I don't wanna sit next to her," Sammy whined, looking at Miss Dogden with fear in his eyes.

John shifted the chair several inches away from Miss Dogden and closer to Judge Bridges.

"See? Now you're sitting next to Judge Bridges, okay?" John told him. "And I'm gonna be right over there and all I need you to do is talk to this nice lady, okay?"

Sammy nodded, smiling at his dad as he knelt before his seat.

"You look real good, Sammy," John told him. "You scrub up nice."

Sammy giggled.

"That's what Josephine said," he announced. "She picked it out because she said you'd like it…"

"Well, she's a very smart lady," John assured his son. "You ready?"

Sammy nodded.

John got up and moved back to his seat, nodding to Bridges that she could start.

"So, Sam… you really missed your dad then huh?" Bridges asked him. Sammy nodded and looked at his dad again. "And you're foster mom picked out an outfit for you to wear?"

"Yup, Josephine said that Dad would think I looked really smart and handsome…" Sammy grinned.

John nodded his agreement.

"Real handsome, kiddo," John assured him. "You always look smart…"

Sammy grinned.

"Your brother was telling us that Josephine has a dog?"

"Yup, his name is Chester and he's sleeps on my bed with me because he knows Daddy and Dean can't be there to watch out for me, so he's been taking care of me for them," Sammy announced. "If he'd been in that first place with me, I bet…"

"You didn't like that place very much, did you?" Bridges asked carefully.

"There was a big kid who was a bully, he was really mean… he was picking on Danny and I tried to help him but then he started to pick on me instead."

"Do you like Danny?"

Sammy nodded.

"He was my friend… but he left before I did. And then it was really lonely, and Joshua wouldn't leave me alone. But then Miss Rose came and told me I had to tell her what happened and she would help me… she said she could take me straight away but there'd be nowhere to sleep until morning so I said I'd stay for another night."

"That was very brave, but why would you do that?"

"Because Miss Rose was real nice and I didn't wanna get in the way," Sammy explained. "And I was still really sore and tired from when I fell and from when Joshua hit me a lot, and I thought that I should stay where there was a bed."

"But that night you got hurt didn't you… do you want to tell me about it?"

Sammy shook his head as tears welled up.

"No," he said, his voice sounding younger than his years. "He said something about splinters… something about plungers and prison…"

Bridges exchanged horrified glances with John before turning to Miss Rose.

"That wasn't in the police report, Miss Rose."

"I'm sorry, Judge, this is the first I heard of it…"

Bridges nodded and took a deep breath. John wished that would work for him, but every breath he took made him feel dizzy and nauseous. God, please tell me… please don't let that… please, not my little boy…

"Sam, can you tell me what happened?"

Sammy shook his head again.

"What did Joshua use the plunger for?"

Sammy looked down at his hands.

"He hit me with it really hard," Sammy told her. "I don't remember much after that."

"Ah, Judge?" Westerly piped up carefully. "I had a full examination done on Sam given the situation, to cover every contingency, and there was no sign of… well, that particular type of assault."

John sighed in relief, but his heart was still pounding painfully in his chest. He looked at Sammy, his beautiful, sweet, innocent little boy and felt tears spilling over his cheeks. Sammy looked so tiny, so hurt and betrayed, but the minute Sammy saw his father looking at him he managed a smile.

"Okay," Bridges announced. "But I would suggest that the transcript from this case be forwarded to the case against this boy…"

"Yes Judge," Miss Rose assured him, making a note on her file.

"Okay, Sammy, now can you tell me what happened the night you fell?"

"I don't know that much, just that something was chasing us and Dean seemed real worried so we ran… we thought Daddy was hurt, but we never got to find him because I fell in the hole… after that I really don't remember anything," Sammy said quickly. "I remember waking up and seeing Dad and Dean crying and there were lots of people around but I didn't really understand what was happening. Two of them took my Dad away… Doctor Westerly told me what was going on and he was real nice to me. He took care of me and was always there when I needed someone. It wasn't like my Dad, though, but he was my friend."

"Do you want to tell me about your dad?" Bridges asked him. "What do you think of your Dad?"

Sammy started to cry again and jumped from his seat, racing around to John and climbing into his lap. He wrapped his arms around John's neck and held on tight as if his life depended on it.

"I love my Dad!" Sammy sobbed. John held him close and kissed the top of his head. "I wanna be with my Dad!"

John, certain that he'd run out of tears, felt more slipping down his cheeks.

"It's okay, Sammy," John told his little boy. "I need you to take a deep breath, okay?"

"It's okay Sam," Bridges told him. "We're done here, okay? You can go outside and wait… I bet your brother's out there, huh?"

Sammy wouldn't move, so John got to his feet.

"I'll take him to his foster mother," John promised, heading for the door. The man waited for him as John put Sammy into the arms of a concerned looking woman that rushed to their side and he smiled. "Thank you," he told her. "For taking care of him… to you and Sandy."

John hurried back to his seat, feeling like his heart was tearing apart with every step that took him further from his boys, but he made it across the room just the same.

"You weren't kidding, Mr Winchester," Bridges told him. "That boy is something else… but I think we should move on, there's still a lot to get through. Is there anyone else who would like to say something?"

"Ahem!" Bobby cleared his throat and leaned forward in his seat. "I would like to say something."

"Oh boy," John muttered. Their friendship, though strong, had always been volatile to say the least. Bobby had all the dirt on John and he couldn't help but wonder what the man was going to say.

"I don't have a lot to say, I'm not one for make blo… ah, speeches," Bobby coughed again, hoping the judge didn't hear his near hunter's language. "I just want to say that of all the people who should lose their kids, John Winchester ain't one of them. He's the most pig headed man I've ever known, real stubborn and a pain in my ass at times, but he's a great father and he loves his boys more than anyone has ever loved anything… he's devoted to them, he'd die for them in a heartbeat… John Winchester is the type of man who will do anything to help someone in need. He's helped me out more times than I can count, and sometimes just knowing that you can pick up the phone and call him is enough to make life a little easier. If this… woman… wants to help kids, she shouldn't be wasting her time looking into someone like John, she should be giving him a fu… a father of the year award or something… I mean, he ain't perfect, but he's the only father those boys have and he loves them more than anything."

"Love doesn't make someone a good parent, Mr Singer," Bridges told him.

"I know, Judge, but John? He's the real deal… this ain't all been a show, this is him trying to get his family back together. He's fought to protect them ever since their momma died, and he wont stop fighting for them."

Bridges nodded.

"Mr Winchester, I've heard from everyone else, I've read numerous statements… and I see you have a mysterious package of your own there… do you want to add something before I make my decision?"

John nodded, ripping the envelope open and pulling out a stack of photos, handing them around the table. There were dozens of photos, multiple copies of each and everyone got a set.

"Over the passed few weeks that I've been away from my boys, Jim Murphy has been writing reports, making phone calls and generally running things from my end to state my case for getting my kids back," John explained, dropping a set of photos in front of Miss Dogden, just out of her reach but in a messy pile that meant she had to restack them. "So I felt a bit… well, useless. I hate feeling useless, but there wasn't much for me to do in that area so I started to think about what I could do for my boys. I know they've been missing out on things while I tried to figure everything out, and I finally got to the point that I wanted to do it… finally just pick a spot where we could make a home and be happy. That house is two towns over. It's got four bedrooms, two bathrooms, a huge kitchen, a huge back yard and a swing set out the front. I've been there day and night doing repairs and painting the rooms. There's a photo in there of what the boys rooms look like. There's bunk beds in both the rooms because sometimes they like to turn them into forts and sleep in the same room. The house is a five minute walk from a good school where I have already had them pre-enrolled… the head master has agreed to let them enrol if you let them come home…"

"That sound great, but…"

"I also have a job lined up at a mechanic shop a few minutes from the school and the boss knows I'm a single father and he's more than willing for me to work flexible hours so I can be there for my boys. The school has an after school facility they can go to until I finish work…"

John could see the shocked faces all around the table and sighed.

"I have made mistakes over the years, too busy hiding from my own grief over losing my wife, trying to outrun the pain the boys might feel from losing their mother that I lost sight of what it was they really needed… they need stability, they need a home, they need friends… and I'm starting to think they might need a dog," John chuckled. "The only thing I need to make all of this happen is a second chance. A second chance to prove to my son's that I can be the father they need, and not just the father they love."

"Mr Winchester…"

"I know things…"

"Mr Winchester!" Bridges raised her voice to interrupt him and John clamped his mouth shut. "I would normally say that I would need the night to think things through… children's cases are often complicated. But in this case? I see a lot of problems with these boys, and the ones that you can fix you already have… and been up nights doing it by the look of these pictures. This house is beautiful… however, I have a few things to say before I make my final ruling…"

John held his breath.

"I would suggest, Miss Dogden, that you seriously consider a change in career because I don't think you're going to have a job to go back to… unless you'd consider joining the janitorial staff, at least you couldn't do anymore damage scrubbing toilets. Yes, I read Miss Roses report about Sam Winchester having to scrub the toilets after sustaining a head injury from a so-called fall. Not impressed, Miss Dogden… and Miss Rose, I would suggest that, if it's not already policy, you recommend that all complaining witnesses be checked out thoroughly too, so that a judge doesn't have to waste time and effort explaining why its dangerous to leave a big hole in the middle of the ground."

"Yes judge," Miss Rose assured her. "I have put in my own recommendations to the board and serious changes are already in motion."

"Good," Bridges replied. "Doctor Westerly, you should be commended for your work in this case. You have gone above and beyond the call of duty and, if you don't give yourself and ulcer first, I would suggest you consider getting more involved in the system so you can help more boys like Sam in the future. You were a real asset in this case."

"Thank you judge," Westerly told her.

"Bobby Singer and Jim Murphy… not only is John Winchester lucky to have you watching his back, but I take it from Mr Singer's very passionate statement that you're lucky that have him watching yours, too," she continued. "Neither of you look like you've slept much these passed few weeks, and I really hope that you'll get the chance to catch up on some sleep before too long."

"Yes ma'am," Bobby agreed. Jim nodded, squeezing John's arm again as the judge turned to him.

"And John Winchester…" Bridges shook her head. "Never have I seen a father so passionate for his boys. I have never seen to children walk in here and profess their love for their father with a wisdom beyond their years… normally the kids who come through here are afraid of their parents, but Sam and Dean… well, they're great kids."

"Thank you, I think so too," John answered, pride shining in his eyes again.

"I have never seen a father so willing to give up everything he has to make things better for his boys… I have no doubt that you're a wonderful father and I see absolutely no reason to keep them from you," Bridges announced. "I hereby declare that Sam and Dean Winchester be returned to their father immediately with the apologies of the court and Child Protective Services! Case closed!"

A cheer tore through the air as everyone jumped to their feet and began shaking hands and congratulating each other… when they turned to John, however, he was no longer standing by his seat, he had raced to the door a pulled it open until it banged against the door.

"You're coming home!" he announced to his boys. "We won! You're coming home!!!"

John sank to his knees as Dean and Sammy ran to him and threw their arms around him. The three Winchester men cried in joy and relief as they clung to each other…

And Judge Bridges couldn't help but smile.

"Miss Dogden!" she called, getting the bitter woman's attention. "Take a photo… that there? That's what a loving family looks like."

**SUPERNATURAL**

**A/N – Okay, so I managed to make myself cry in this chapter! I hope you all like it!**

There's one more chapter to go and then –sniff- it's over… sad!!!


	12. Chapter 12

A/N – Final chapter folks! It's a short one, but I hope you like it. It's different to how I planned it going in, but John had a different story to tell than the one I had planned. I hope you like it!

Dedicated: To SammyGirl1963. I really hope this story is what you'd hoped for. I had a great time writing it, and I think it addressed some important issues. I know they weren't part of the original plot bunny, but they snuck in there anyway and I think they even did me some good. I loved writing this fic, I think it's managed to climb to one of my favs so far, and I gotta say… I wont be as scared to write WeeChester's anymore!

Disclaimer: They're not mine, nothing changed over night and I still don't get paid to do this.

**Chapter Twelve**

**A Happily Ever After**

**Four-ish years ago**

John Winchester had long since given up on a fairy tale ending, he didn't think they existed anymore. His fairy tale life had been a loving home, a beautiful wife, a rambunctious son and a bouncing baby… they were his whole world, they were everything to him. Some nights he would lay awake all night, listening to the peace that surrounded him, listening to his family as the slept soundly and all he could think of was how lucky he was to have them.

Then one night, one terrible night, it all changed. Everything that gave his life meaning was ripped away from him with the flickering of hungry flames as they threatened to take his baby boy, as they devoured his beautiful wife. Every day since then had been dark, some darker than others. The darkness had threatened to overwhelm him each day until, sometimes, he just had to go somewhere safe, somewhere he could melt while the boys were taken care of. He went to Jim Murphy's home, crawled onto the sofa bed he had recently come to call his own and hide from the world for as long as he could.

It was never long before Dean had come looking for him, carrying baby Sammy and bouncing on him until he finally pulled the blankets away from his face and looked up at his smiling son.

"You're s'posed to be up, Daddy," Dean announced, his brightness charred only by the sadness John saw deep in his eyes. That sadness made John's chest hurt, but he couldn't think of a way to make it go away. "You s'posed to be dressed!"

"Dean…"

"No, we're taking Sammy to the lake, 'member? We're gonna teach him to swim!" Dean reminded John, tugging at his shirt until he sat up. "You promised that next time we went to Pastor Jim's we'd get to take Sammy swimming and look! He's really excited!"

John glanced at Sammy.

"Sammy, show Daddy how excited you are," Dean instructed his little brother, sitting him carefully on the bed in front of him where John could see. Dean clapped his hands and Sammy immediately shadowed the action, giggling happily. "See? See Daddy! He's really excited!"

John smiled for the first time in months and gathered his boys into his arms, holding them tight against him. He felt Dean settled against his chest even while Sammy squirmed to be allowed to sit back up and clapped some more.

Laughing, John made up his mind to get out of bed and face the day… to face life.

"What's all the giggling about?" Jim had asked from the doorway, watching the remaining Winchester's as they laughed together and watched Sammy.

"We're going to the lake, and Sammy's real excited!" Dean announced again, proud of his brother and excited to have another audience member to perform for. "See? Sammy, look! We're excited, aren't we?"

Dean clapped.

Sammy clapped and giggled.

"See?! Excited!"

John chuckled and pulled his boys out of bed with him as he got up. Jim was watching him carefully, he knew that, but it was okay. He appreciated his friends concern and he knew it was well earned on his part, but he was going to make sure that Sammy never lost that excitement and Dean never lost that new glint in his eye. There was only one way to do that, and it sure as hell had nothing to do with wallowing in bed all day!

"Who wants some of Pastor Jim's famous pancakes?" John asked happily, putting Dean on the floor.

"We do!" Dean announced, clapping.

Sammy clapped and furrowed his brow in confusion a moment as everyone roared in laughter, but soon his little face relaxed into a huge smile and he was giggling all over again.

"Oh, and John?" Jim got his friends attention.

"Yeah?" John asked.

"Thanks for dumping me in it with the pancakes…"

"Anytime, old man… I'd like blue berry, please!"

"Choc chip!" Dean added, clapping again.

Sammy clapped and giggled.

"Sammy wants choc chip, too!" Dean announced.

SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

**Present Day – the day after the hearing**

John had fallen asleep quite late, too excited to be able to sit still if he was being honest about it. He had left Jim and Bobby the motel room for however long they wanted it, though there was plenty of room in his new home he just wasn't ready to share it with anyone but Dean and Sammy yet. John had been so full of excitement when he'd put the boys to bed that he hadn't been able to go to sleep. Instead he'd played with them for a while before reading them a story and finally left them to 'sleep'… which meant whispering to each other and giggling for another hour before falling into the exhausted lump John had found an hour later.

He had sat beside their bed for a few hours, watching them as they slept peacefully. Sammy had struggled against some hidden adversary in his sleep a few times and Dean had instinctively wrapped his arms around him and pulled him closer to keep him safe… and Sammy had immediately calmed down. The boys were safe again, they were together, and he couldn't be happier.

He hated to think about what had happened while they were away from him, though, and found tears slipping soundlessly down his cheeks as he watched them. Dean was freakishly attached to Sammy, even more than ever before, but he was talking again. He had had to live with a horrible, sadistic man for four days who had refused that Dean was traumatised beyond speech because of his brother's near death accident and then being torn away from his family. Four days of being tormented by this man who wanted to teach Dean a lesson, to force him to become part of the 'family', telling Dean that his father was no good and not caring what any of it would do to the young boy.

And yet Dean had come out on top. John knew that Dean had inherited his stubbornness, and he found himself relieved because it had given him the strength and determination to withstand what the man put him through… still, he wondered how much he would have been able to cope with at nine years old.

But Sammy didn't seem to be fairing quite as well as his big brother. He had nightmares, sure, but the bruises and the cuts to his face were what worried John most at the moment. He knew that he and Dean could love Sammy into feeling safe and secure again, but the damage that had been done to the little boys body could have killed him. Still recovering from the fall, bruises on his back and face from the beating with the… plunger. John had to swallow the wave of nausea and he remembered his son's words at the hearing.

"He said something about splinters… something about plungers and prison…" 

Oh God, John thought. What could have happened to Sammy… what almost…

He shook his head, reminding himself that it hadn't happened, that Sammy was safe and home where he belonged. But the thought of him in that horrible place where he'd been bullied, beaten, abused by an older boy while everyone assumed he was a trouble maker! His beautiful, sweet, honest boy! John's fists clenched tightly as he grit his teeth, anger rising in his chest.

Sammy stirred and made a slight whimpering sound.

Dean shifted in his sleep and pulled him closer.

"S'kay Sammy," Dean mumbled in Sammy's ear.

Sammy fell silent.

John sighed and leaned toward his boys. He laid one hand n Dean's cheek, convincing himself that he really was home… and then shifted his hand to brush Sammy's hair out of his eyes, stroking it back gently.

"You're safe, Sammy," John whispered.

He had sat like that for another couple of hours before kissing both his boys good night and making his way tiredly to his room. He lay awake for at least an hour, listening to the silence around him, the sound of his family safe and at peace for the first time in what felt like an eternity.

He would never let this happen again, John vowed. Never!

Now, as his eyes opened and he listened to the quiet of the house, John wondered how much he had dreamed the night before. His boys asleep in bed, Dean comforting Sammy even while he slept… were they real? Were they home? He didn't really want to check in case he found out it had all been a dream and they were still…

His bedroom door, standing ajar all night so he could hear the instant his boys needed him, flew open and John sat bolt upright in bed.

"Dad!" Dean yelled, grinning.

"Daddy!" Sammy echoed, and together they bounced up onto John's bed and tackled him until he fell back against the pillows. John couldn't help but laugh at their excitement, his heart swelling to see them so happy. Sammy had had a restless night, he knew, and still had bags under his eyes that told John how badly he'd really slept, but the boys smile reached all the way up to his eyes and he beamed through the bruises that he wore with courage beyond that of a five year old, so John decided he shouldn't worry.

"Hey boys," John greeted them when they settled down beside him, each pulling one of his arms across them in a big family hug. John squeezed them tight, still careful about how much pressure he put on Sammy's back and chest in case he hurt him, but Sammy's injuries seemed to bother John more than Sammy himself. He'd never known anyone to bounce back like Sammy had done, and it make him glow with even more pride than he realised he had the capacity for. "How you doing this morning?"

"Great!" Dean announced, snuggling closer to his father. "This place is awesome!"

"Yeah?" John asked, looking around him room and out the door to the hallway. "You like the house, huh?"

"Yeah!" Sammy agreed. "Our room's great!"

"Well, you know, you have a room each… you don't have to share if you don't want to," John reminded them. Seeing the look in each of his son's eyes he chuckled and hugged them a little closer. "You can share for as long as you like."

"Are we gonna stay here long?" Dean asked, sitting up suddenly.

"Do you want to stay?" John asked him. Dean nodded. "Then we're staying… you both have school Monday, wont that be good?"

"I get to go to school?" Sammy asked, his eyes wide with excitement. "Really?"

"Really!" John chuckled. "Now… I'm thinking that, since you're such a big boy now and ready to start school, you're gonna need a good breakfast huh? I have a list of stuff from Doctor Westerly that you can eat but we still have to be careful coz…"

"I know, I know," Sammy whinged.

"Sammy," Dean piped up, his voice stern. "You have to do as you're told… we can't let you get sick again."

Sammy smiled sadly.

"Okay," he said. "I'll be good, I promise."

"He'll be good, Dad," Dean assured his father, as usual the peace maker of the family.

"Okay, as long as you're sure," John responded, looking down at Sammy. "I have strict instructions to watch the fat in your food… but how does turkey bacon sound for breakfast?"

"Ew!" Sammy and Dean both groaned.

"There's always granola," John threatened.

Dean looked at Sammy for a moment.

"Turkey bacon sounds good," he piped up, trying to force some enthusiasm into his voice.

"Sounds… like turkey bacon," Sammy muttered. He fought to hide a grin and then launched himself at his father, tickling John's ribs in a five year olds effort to start a tickle fight. It doesn't really tickle, but it's so cute that you just can't stop yourself from laughing anyway.

Ten minutes later, when Sammy and Dean were running away from John as he chased them through the house threatening to release the Tickle Monster again if they didn't wash up for breakfast, the phone rang.

"Hello?" John answered, snatching it up from the kitchen wall and dragging the long chord around as he started preparing breakfast for his family.

"John, it's Bobby," Bobby's gruff voice, unmistakable as it was, announced himself.

"Hey, Bobby," John greeted him, lowering his voice slightly. "Everything set for today?"

"Yup, we're good to go," Bobby assured him. "We'll be around in a few hours. How was the first morning back with the boys?"

John heard Dean and Sammy giggling further up the hall.

"Just about the most awesome day of my whole life," John told his old friend. "There's nothing better…"

SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

**Four and a half hours later**

John led Dean and Sammy out the back door with blindfolds over their eyes. He had told them they had to be really quiet and really patient or he wouldn't show them their surprise, but he could feel their excitement as each of the boys held their breath and tip toed along in front of their father, trusting him to guide them carefully through the unknown terrain of the backyard.

"No peeking, Sammy," Dean warned, whispering.

"I'm not peeking, you're peeking," Sammy whispered back.

John grinned. The boys were even more excited than he had expected them to be, and it was making it impossible for him not to cheat and rush them outside tucked under his arms… but this was better, he decided. Let them build up to the big surprise.

"Okay, and off with the blindfolds!" John announced. Dean and Sammy pulled them down from their faces and looked around.

"SURPRISE! WELCOME HOME!" Jim, Bobby, Westerly, Sandy, Josephine and Miss Rose all stood before them, grinning from ear to ear as they watched the Winchester boys take in their surroundings. Everyone who had helped them through the passed several weeks were standing right in front of them, all there to see them and to celebrate with them.

"Wow!" Sammy gasped.

"This is so cool!" Dean agreed, looking around. There were balloons and streamers all around, table with party hats, cake and jello, and a barbecue nearby where Bobby had been interrupted cooking dinner – an easily digested dinner for Sammy, of course.

"Oh, that's not all," John announced. "What's that?!?!"

Everyone stepped to one side, revealing a jungle gym all set up for the boys to play on, fully equipped with a huge slide and a sand pit.

Before the boys could say anything else, however, John nodded to Josephine who whistle sharply. A loud bark came from around the side of the house and Chester came rushing toward them, bowling Sammy over and planting sloppy kisses all over the little boys face.

"Chester!" Sammy gasped, wrapping his arms around the dogs neck and hugging him close.

"Sammy, look!" Dean announced from where he was kneeling beside Sammy, patting the dog. A tiny little bark caught Sammy's attention and he looked behind Chester. A little fluffy golden retriever puppy was scurrying along behind the bigger dog, rushing to get to Dean and Sammy so it could play too.

"Wow!" Sammy whispered, careful not to scare the puppy.

"That's your very own puppy, boys," John told them. "You have to take care of it and train it and everything, but best of all you can pick a name too!"

The puppy knocked Sammy back down, squirming with excitement as it tried to mimic it's much older friend and plant kisses all over the boys.

Sammy giggled.

"I think we'll have to call him Wiggles," Sammy announced.

"What do you think, Dean?" John asked his older son. The puppy immediately turned it's attention to the older boy, knocking him down and making sure he knew he was loved too.

"Definitely," Dean laughed, struggling under the puppies determined kisses.

Chester, having watched all of this very carefully, knocked the puppy from Dean's chest and every one laughed when the newly-named Wiggles tumbled onto his back, then jumping right back up to attack his new friends with kisses…

Right up until Chester knocked him back down again…

John stood back for the majority of the party, watching as Dean and Sammy played with the dogs, taught tricks to the puppy, and talked to all their friends – both new and old. He knew that they had a long way to go before everything was back to normal, and a few years before it was Winchester normal, but for now the boys were happy. He would be there for them, love them through their injuries and their nightmares, and make sure they knew that nothing like that would ever happen to their family again.

He would make sure Dean and Sammy knew they were safe, loved and that their family was going to be the one constant in their lives that they could rely on. Nobody could ever take that away from them again… it was good to know that the fairy tale could still come true, even if it was different from the one he had originally planned.

"Hey John, how you doing?" Jim asked, suddenly by John's side before he even realised he and Bobby had torn from the rest of the party.

"I'm… I'm…" John swallowed and looked back at his boys. "I never thought I could be this happy again…"

"What about hunting?" Bobby asked carefully. "You really gonna give it up?"

John shrugged.

"No," he answered honestly. "But I am gonna postpone it. If a hunt comes up around here, I'll take it on but I'm not going to go out looking for trouble when they boys need me, especially not now… Sammy's having bad dreams and Dean seems to panic whenever Sammy's away from him for more than a few minutes at a time… now is not the time to wrestle with demons and torch ghosts… maybe in a couple of years when they're a bit older we'll move again, but from now on I'm going to remember the golden rule…"

"Don't let the demon get the first hit?" Bobby asked.

"Don't invite a ghost home for dinner?" Jim provided.

"Very funny," John chided, a warning tone in his voice.

"Oh! I know, it was the last thing you told me last time I saw you," Bobby announced. "Don't let the door hit you on the…"

"No," John interrupted, laughing. "My boys come first… even I forgot that one, and it's not a mistake I plan on making again."

"Hey, Dad!" Dean called, catching John's attention. He glanced over at his boys only to be met with a face full of water as Dean turned the hose on him. John laughed and immediately ran toward the hose as Dean aimed it at everyone else. Soon the whole party was drenched and chasing the boys as they giggled and tripped over Wiggles in their rush to escape.

By the time they were all too tired to run anymore, Sammy and Dean were stretched out of the plush green grass panting, Chester and Wiggles in between them. Chester watched them carefully, while Wiggles fell asleep with his head on Chesters paws. John was sitting with the rest of the adults but couldn't tear his eyes from his son's…

Life just couldn't get more perfect than this…

**THE END**

**A/N – Well, that wraps it up for my very first WeeChester fic, I really hold you liked it! I had a great time writing it, and I thank everyone for their continued support.**

**Oh, and one more thing… to Nessie and Sunnyjunedays! I have a fic ready to go that will make you guys very happy. Sunnyjunedays, I promised you a fic when you were having your surgery, remember? Do you remember the teaser I gave you? Well, you're still the only one who knows about it so I wont mention it here, it's a surprise, but it's racing through my head and it's turned into quite the plot bunny! AND Nessie, you asked for a TeenChester fic – thanks for that, by the way rolls eyes so I thought I'd kill two birds with one stone and combine the two! I hope you like that idea, and I'll be posting the first chapter probably tomorrow, so be on the lookout for it!**

**The title of the new fic is called : WARPED AND TWISTED. Bet I got ya hooked now, huh? Hope you'll follow me along another journey with the boys!**

**I'm gonna miss this story, though. Thanks once again to SammyGirl1963 for requesting it, I hope you got what you were hoping for… if not, I hope I exceeded your expectations!**

**Take care all, and I really hope you liked the story!**


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